


Surrogate

by rougeandtonic



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Domestic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Misunderstandings, Mpreg, Oblivious Katsuki Yuuri, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Omegaverse, Pining, Scenting, Soul Bond, Surrogacy, and yet for some reason I still have to add the tag, but the fluff would not taste as... fluffy without it, ok and some angst, victor has no chill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 18:20:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 47,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11537859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rougeandtonic/pseuds/rougeandtonic
Summary: In which Yuuri is broke and jobless and carrying a baby for retired figure skater Victor Nikiforov, Victor is intent on breaking every one of their surrogacy agency's rules, and Phichit tries really, really hard to be a voice of reason.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic comes from two places:  
> 1\. MPREG is a guilty pleasure of mine. The pining, the secrets, the misunderstandings, the domesticity, the reveals. I need a writing break with something fun and fluffy and I've never written MPREG before so... here we are.
> 
> 2\. MPREG drives me crazy. Pregnant women can have jobs and lift things over five pounds and are even allowed to leave the house without supervision (once in a while). When will pregnant men get the same rights?
> 
> This is going to be heavy on the tropes and romance and light on the pregnancy-related medical milestones ( _no, Yuuri, I don't care that you have to pee again, this is not a plot point_ / _Victor, put that down_ / _Yuuri, stop stressing, no, I don't know how it's going to get out of you either but there's a 99.9 percent chance there'll be a fade to black and none of us will ever have to find out_ / _No, Victor, you can't live-tweet the birth. What part of fade to black are you misunderstanding?_ / _No, Yuuri, we're not doing a glucose tolerance test. They're *boring*. Now give back the pregnancy book you smuggled in. That only applies to non-fictional pregnancies._ )
> 
> Anyways, if anything in the tags squicks you, I totally get that, but you might want to turn back now. (Cautionary tale: I used to do AO3 searches with "-mpreg -knot* -omega*" and look where I am today).

"No, Yuuri," Phichit says. "You're not doing this."

"What?" Yuuri demands. "There's nothing wrong with being a surrogate."

"No, there isn't, but--"

"You even gave me a reference when I signed up!" Yuuri exclaims, feeling tears of frustration start to prick at his eyes.

He knows better to expect his family to understand, but Phichit had always been supportive of his decisions. And maybe this wasn't ideal, but ideal was having a healthy anterior cruciate ligament in his right knee and never having to leave Ballet du Nord. His severance and disability paychecks ended last month, when he was deemed recovered enough from the surgeries to function normally, even if 'normal' was never dancing professionally again.

And now he's at the end of his savings, at the end of jobs to apply for, and at the end of his skills, because all he knows how to do is dance and he was a fool to think he could go on living that dream forever.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it," Phichit argues. "And I also didn't know you'd have to live with some strange alpha for nine months--"

"More like forty weeks," Yuuri mumbles.

"Forty weeks, see?" But he must sense Yuuri's distress, because he scoots closer on the couch and gives his arm a squeeze. "Yuuri, you're going to find something, I know you will. And I told you, I can cover rent this month--"

"But that's not fair to you." Yuuri shakes his head.

He can't even move home to Hasetsu. It's only a two hour drive to the hot springs and it's not like his family wouldn't welcome him, but he hasn't been back since before Vicchan passed. The hot springs town is going through hard times. With so few tourists these days, Yutopia isn't in need of any extra help. So even if Yuuri worked for free, he still be a burden.

He looks down at his phone on the coffee table, the cracked poodle case, and thinks about the phone call he'd just gotten.

"It's what friends do, Yuuri," Phichit tells him. He slings an arm around Yuuri and Yuuri lets him tug him in close. He leans his head on Phichit's shoulder. "And I believe in you. Something's going to come up. I know it will. Something that's meant to be."

"Maybe this is that thing," Yuuri says. He's not thrilled at the prospect, either. But there must be worse ways to make money than giving someone a baby they want so much.

"Yuuri," Phichit starts.

"I'm going to go in and meet him, at least," Yuuri tells him. "I won't be committing to anything. My heat's not until next month anyways, so I have time to decide. And something better could come up before then. But at least I'll have a backup option this way."

Phichit rubs his back. "Okay. If that's what you want." Then he releases Yuuri, snatches the ripped off electricity bill out of his hands where Yuuri had scribbled down the client's name and details during the phone call ('Victor Nikiforov', 'retired professional figure skater', 'single') and whips out his phone.

"What are you doing?"

"A background check," Phichit says distractedly.

Yuuri frowns. "I think the agency already did one of those."

Phichit looks up and flashes Yuuri a sly grin. "Not as thorough as mine."

 

 

"The prospective father is already here," the receptionist tells him as she leads him down the corridor. The office is how Yuuri remembers it. Friendly, with soft carpet and photos of cute babies lining the walls.

"Oh," Yuuri says. He wipes his palms on his jeans. "Am I late?"

"Not at all. He was just very excited to meet you," she tells him.

Yuuri nods without replying. He's been going over in his mind why he would have been chosen at all. They'd taken a picture and had him fill out countless pages of personal and medical questions. Then they'd given him a small cloth, which he'd used to wipe sweat from his neck during his next physical therapy session at the gym and then returned so prospective alphas could get his scent.

The photo shows how plain looking he is and his bio just reveals how deficient he is at life. Why would any alpha be excited to meet him? Let alone a gorgeous Olympic medalist figure skater. His dirty gym rag can't smell that good.

The only reason he can think of is that it's because he's a rare male omega. A lot of people still believe the myth that children of male omegas are special -- smarter, stronger, healthier than their peers. But, in reality, the only thing special about a male omega pregnancy is how much riskier and higher maintenance it is.

"Here we are." The receptionist cuts through his thoughts as she opens a door to a small conference room. She ushers Yuuri into the room, and the sole occupant, the silver-haired man from Phichit's 'background check', leaps up with a big grin on his face.

"Yuuri, this is Victor--" the receptionist starts.

"Victor Nikiforov," the man says. Sparkling eyes meet Yuuri's as he sticks out his hand. Yuuri takes it, wondering how long he's been wanting a baby to be so excited to just meet with a potential surrogate.

"And, Victor, this is Yuuri Katsuki."

Victor lets the handshake linger so long it becomes more like holding hands across the table. His long fingers are beautiful, elegant and probably professionally manicured. Even Yuuri's hand looks boring in contrast to him.

When Yuuri looks up, Victor is staring closely at him, as if searching for something. When Victor finally releases his hand, Yuuri gets the distinct impression that Victor didn't find whatever he was looking for.

But the man says, anyways, "Wow, Yuuri, you are so beautiful. None of your photos did you justice."

"Oh," is all Yuuri can get out for a moment, until he collects himself and says, "Thank you."

The same is true of Victor, probably a thousand-fold more, but Yuuri is feeling too shy to say that out loud. His white-blond hair falls artfully over his face and his eyes are a stunning blue.

His long-sleeved shirt shows off his broad shoulders and slim waist. He has a dancer's body, Yuuri thinks. Strong and lean. But then he thinks about the programs Yuuri's watched on YouTube and thinks, he already is a dancer. Just in skates instead of ballet slippers.

Yuuri looks up to catch Victor looking him over, too, and his cheeks flush as he quickly takes a seat at the conference table. Between aggressive physical therapy and spending nights dancing off his anxiety alone in Minako's studio -- as well a rapidly dwindling bank account that's kept his anxiety-driven binge eating in check -- he's actually not too far from the lean ballet performance shape he used to have to maintain.

But, even if he only has a few extra pounds, each one shows, as always, in his cheeks and thighs and a little softness over the abs that were torture to maintain through a whole season of performances.

"Your counselor will be here in a few minutes. She's just finishing up a phone consultation," the receptionist says.

Yuuri looks up, startled. He'd forgotten she was there.

"In the meantime," she continues as she steps out. "Feel free to chat and get to know each other."

"Tell Nathalie not to hurry," Victor calls after her, then turns back to Yuuri. "I want to learn everything about you, Yuuri."

"Oh," Yuuri says. Victor leans forward on the table on his elbows. Behind him on the wall, there's a photograph of a baby in a giant flower. The surreality of the situation is starting to catch up to Yuuri.

"Tell me everything," Victor says in his light Russian accent. His eyes are still alight.

"Well, you read my profile, right?" Yuuri asks.

"I did," Victor says. "And you are quite impressive. A lead at the Ballet du Nord including performances in Coppelia and Paquita in the past few years."

"I was," he says with a frown. He's pretty sure he didn't put that much detailed bragging in his answers. But maybe Victor googled him, too. Or the agency did. "But I'm not a lead anymore. I mean, I'm not even a dancer anymore."

"Ah, yes, your ACL." Victor shakes his head. "I'm very sorry about that. I'm not sorry to be meeting you, because I'm sure you wouldn't be taking the time to do this if you were still dancing, but I understand. Anything can happen, can't it? I had a bad sprain a few years ago and had to take half a season off. Oh, yes! I'm a figure skater. I didn't mention that."

"I know," Yuuri says.

"You do?" Victor leans forward again, looking delighted. "You're a fan?"

"Um, well, I always liked watching the ice dancing," Yuuri admits. "But I watched some of your programs this week. They're very --" Too many praises fit his skating. Most of his programs won him gold medals, after all, including two Olympic golds. But what had had Yuuri watching and rewatching him on YouTube the last few days was that they were -- "emotive. You're always telling a new story, every time. And your last free skate was so bare and raw."

Victor's eyes widen and Yuuri feels his cheeks flush.

"I'm sorry," Yuuri says quickly. The last thing a world champion figure skater needs is critique from a failed dancer. "I didn't mean to--I just meant that I liked them. It. Your skating."

Victor's surprised expression turns to amusement. "Why, thank you, Yuuri. I am flattered, especially coming from you."

"Me?"

Victor shakes his head, silver strands of hair falling over his eye. "I watched your whole Coppelia performance on YouTube, the one from last year. It was a terrible quality bootleg, by the way, I could barely make out your face. But your dancing -- Your body makes incredible music, you know. You are an incredible lead."

"Was," Yuuri says.

Victor raises his eyebrows.

"Past tense," Yuuri clarifies.

Victor reaches his hand across the table as if to comfort him but, luckily, they're interrupted by sound of the door opening.

A middle-aged woman with dark red hair and freckles steps inside.

She introduces herself to Yuuri as Nathalie and says she was the one who called him on the phone the other day.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you," she says. "And I hope Victor doesn't mind me telling you that as soon as we got to your profile he said you were the one he wanted to meet. He wouldn't even look at any more profiles."

Yuuri glances at Victor, who doesn't deny it, then back at Nathalie.

"I think there's been a mistake," Yuuri says, a sinking feeling in his stomach. "I think my profile--it can't have been complete." He turns to Victor again. "They couldn't have put everything in there because there's no way you would have wanted to meet me if they had."

Victor frowns at him. "What do you mean?"

"Look, there's no reason you should choose me to pass on genes to your child. I'm anxious and socially awkward and I panic over stupid things. I get depressed. And I gain weight easily. Any child I had would probably be teased in school for being chubby. And I'm just a dime a dozen dancer. Or I was. Now I'm unemployed because I don't have any other skills. I was never very good in school. I've been here since I was ten and I still mix up English phrases. I can't hold my alcohol at all. I've needed glasses since I was seven. And I don't know if ACL weakness is hereditary, but--"

Yuuri watches Victor's expression turn distressed the longer he talks. He's obviously regretting wasting his time on him, maybe trying to plot a way to escape this meeting early.

"Yuuri," Nathalie says his name gently. Yuuri jerks his gaze back to her. Her smooth brow is pinched in the middle. "Your ACL condition isn't genetic. We looked into that. And all the medical conditions you disclosed were in your profile. We didn't leave anything out. And I can tell you that none of our volunteers are perfect. But it sounds like you are having reservations about being a surrogate and that's perfectly fine. You haven't committed to anything and if you're not longer interested in being a surrogate, you are always free to withdraw your profile from our listings."

"No, that's not it." Yuuri realizes at the moment that, yes, he wants to. He hasn't even asked Victor why he wants a baby but if anyone deserves to pass on his genes, it would be him. And if he had half as much enthusiasm for his child as he had for just meeting a potential surrogate, that child is going to grow up so happy. "You must have so many better options, though. You're an Olympic gold medalist. Twice. You deserve better than me to carry your child."

"You're wrong," Victor says firmly, meeting Yuuri's eyes. "You're very special, Yuuri. I will prove it to you."

Yuuri stares at him.

Victor's lips curve into a smile and he adds, "And, you know, a chubby little Yuuri with glasses skating around the ice rink would be adorable."

"Practicing in a dance studio," Yuuri corrects automatically and Victor's smile widens.

Yuuri looks back at Nathalie because he cannot handle Victor smiling at him like that. Nathalie is looking between the two of them with pursed lips, and then gives Yuuri a sharp nod.

"Well, let's get started talking about the logistics, then," Nathalie says. Yuuri can feel Victor's eyes on him and he twists in his chair so he's fully facing Nathalie. "As you know, if you choose to sign the contract, there is a clause giving either of you the right to back out at any time prior to the actual conception."

She turns to Yuuri. "Based on the information you provided when you signed up, we've calculated that your next heat will be in a little under five weeks."

Yuuri nods.

"And you are not on any hormonal birth control?" she asks.

"No," he says, still studiously avoiding Victor's gaze. "It's not--It hasn't been needed."

"And you stopped your heat blockers back in April? I believe you went through one heat in June, right before you signed up with us?"

"Yes," he says. "The surgeons said they would interfere with healing."

She nods. "Now, the contract expires if there is no conception during the first heat. If you wish to wait four months until the next heat then try again, you would both need to undergo a repeat medical evaluation and sign the contract again."

"I would wait for you," Victor says quickly. Yuuri's eyes jerk to him out of surprise and he gives Yuuri a wink. "You're the only one I want for the father of my baby."

Yuuri doesn't know what to do with that.

"Actually, that brings up a good point, Victor," Nathalie says. "We strongly discourage the use of parental terms when referring to surrogates. Even though a surrogate may not want children, or, at least, may not want a child right now, most still find that relinquishing the newborn at the end of the pregnancy is an emotional process. This is especially true for omegas."

Yuuri looks down at the floor. She was speaking to Victor and yet somehow he feels like he's being the one chastised.

"Back to the topic," Nathalie says. "We require at least two more meetings before the contract is signed to get to know each other better. One of them must include a tour of your home, since your surrogate would be staying with you for the duration of the pregnancy."

"I certainly have no objection to spending more time getting to know Yuuri here," Victor says. Yuuri swallows. It's almost as if Victor is flirting with him.

But as soon as he has the thought, he realizes what's actually happening is Victor is just trying to woo him into agreeing to be his surrogate.

"After the two meetings, if you both are still interested in the arrangement, you can come back and sign the contract. This can be anytime between the second meeting and three days prior to Yuuri's heat," she says. "Three days may seem overly cautious, but we do not want to take any chance that the surrogate's heat hormones will affect their decision."

Yuuri nods.

"And, speaking of your heat and the actual conception," she says. "You each have expressed your preference in your application regarding in-person versus artificial insemination."

"Yes," Victor says quickly. Yuuri's eyes dart to him, then back to Nathalie.

"Now, as you know, the idea that actual knotting is required for an omega's conception has long been proven false," she says. "There is some early data that show it may increase the chance of conception by an amount in the order of 5 to 10%, but we do not feel this is sufficient to encourage our clients either way, especially as it is such a personal decision."

Yuuri bites his lip.

"Victor, I know you have said that you are amenable to either option," she continues. "And, Yuuri, it looks like you checked the box for artificial insemination only on your application."

"Yes," Yuuri says. He risks a glance at Victor, who is looking at him with his head tilted thoughtfully.

"All right. So Victor would provide us a specimen no earlier than five days before your heat starts, the closer to the start of it, the better," she says. "And, Yuuri, your heat usually lasts three days, if I'm correct?"

"Yes."

"And you need to spend it at a heat hotel?" she asks.

"Um, yeah. I have a roommate," he says.

She nods. "The client, through our agency, will pay the cost of that for you, then. And, as far as your heat goes, we do not require that you spend it alone, but we do highly discourage you spending it with another alpha. If you do, condoms will naturally be required as well as a blood draw afterwards to ensure that your body has not been exposed to semen other than our client's."

"No, I--that won't be an issue," Yuuri says, still feeling Victor's eyes on him. "I'll be alone."

"All right," she says. "Then five days after your heat, we will test you for pregnancy."

"You can tell that soon?" Victor asks.

"The newer tests are quite sensitive. Omegas specifically start to produce new hormones even before implantation," Nathalie says. "It isn't the cheapest option, but we feel it is worth the cost to know as soon as possible whether the insemination was successful. Now, as you two may have heard, rate of miscarriage and other pregnancy complications are significantly lowered by close proximity of omega and alpha. While we do not require it, we do encourage the surrogate to stay with the alpha for those days before the pregnancy is confirmed, as it will decrease the risk of spontaneous abortion. We especially encourage this for male omegas, who are already at higher risk. If there is no pregnancy, then the surrogate would of course move back out at that time."

"What do you think?" Victor asks. "Would you come stay with me early?"

"I--" Yuuri starts. What would an extra five days be compared to forty weeks, really. But he hasn't exactly agreed to be Victor's surrogate yet, even if he can't currently picture himself saying 'no'.

"That's something that can be decided at any time," Nathalie says smoothly. "Now, there is one more issue I wish to go over before we talk about money."

Yuuri turns in his chair to face her again.

"As I explained to Victor the other day, the higher compatibility between alpha and omega, the higher risk of accidental bonding," she says. "The fact that you would not be sharing a heat decreases this risk significantly. However, living together and spending a lot of time together, while encouraged for the health of the pregnancy, can be sufficient to trigger an early bond. And, if you do form a bond, it is written into your contract that it will be broken at the time of birth."

Yuuri can't imagine a world in which someone like Victor would want to bond with him, so he doubts this is relevant to their situation, in any case.

"Now, our methods for breaking early bonds have come quite a ways in the past few years, but it is still not a pleasant process for either member, especially for an omega who has just given birth. Therefore, we do recommend trying to avoid forming accidental bonds during the pregnancy."

"Would it have to be broken?" Victor asks. And Yuuri jerks his eyes over to him.

"Yes, Victor," Nathalie says firmly. "Both parties enter this contract with the solitary goal of the surrogate providing -- and relinquishing -- a child to client. The surrogate is agreeing they have no interest in having contact with or involvement in raising the child. Neither of you should have your lives and goals altered because an accidental bond influences your emotions."

"Now," she continues. "Let's talk about numbers."

 

It's six days and one more "thank you for your interest, but..." letter from a local dance company to add to Yuuri's collection when he is scheduled to meet Victor for coffee.

Phichit insists on accompanying him to the cafe.

"You realize I've already met him and I've called his references," Yuuri says as they walk. Leaves are starting to collect on the sidewalks and Yuuri tightens his scarf against the early chill of fall. "This isn't a blind date."

It isn't a date at all, Yuuri reminds himself. For some reason, Victor has just become set on Yuuri carrying his child. And, for some other reason, Yuuri, after watching Victor's programs and old interviews every night this week, is starting to become attached to the idea of doing that. But he is hardly someone that Victor, a gorgeous, famous, world champion athlete, would ever be interested in dating.

"Yes, Yuuri. It's not a date. It's bigger than that," Phichit says. "Way, way bigger than that. We need to scope him out from all sides before you make a decision."

Yuuri shakes his head. "I told you, you can only stay to say hi, and then you have to leave."

"That's fine," Phichit says too easily.

"And no getting a table in the back where you think I can't see so you can spy on us," Yuuri says as he pushes the wooden door to the cafe open.

"Why, Yuuri, I would never!" Phichit grasps at his chest in offense.

Yuuri shakes his head but can't help but smile. He knows how lucky he is to have a friend with Phichit, no matter how overprotective he can get sometimes.

Yuuri glances around the cafe. Chatting with Phichit on the walk here had kept him from being too nervous, but now that he's here and doesn't see Victor right away, he wonders if he's changed his mind. He doesn't know why that idea makes his heart sink so much -- no, he does. Of course he knows. The money. That's it. He's becoming more and more desperate for it, and, since the first payment wouldn't be until his heat next month -- a flat sum for the attempt at conception, whether it's successful or not -- he's already in the position of having to borrow this next month's rent from Phichit.

Suddenly, he sees him. Or, rather, hears the "Yuuri!" called across the cafe, and catches a flash of white-blond hair out of the corner of his eye. He bites back a smile of relief.

Victor practically bounds over to them, and to Yuuri's shock, envelops him in a big hug. A ruder alpha would take the opportunity of being so close to press his nose into his neck to get a whiff of his pheromones, or even try to subtly scent him. But Victor just squeezes him tight and then pulls back.

"I'm so happy you came!" He's grinning big, eyes dancing.

"Oh, um, of course," Yuuri stumbles through the words. He feels Phichit elbow him. "Victor, this is my friend Phichit. He just wanted to say hi."

"His _best_ friend," Phichit emphasizes, for some reason, as he reaches out to take Victor's hand.

"Then it's an honor to meet you," Victor says, not even seeming phased. "Do I recognize you? Were you in The Sleeping Beauty with Yuuri?"

"You watched that too?" Yuuri asks. He's not sure if he's more flattered or more embarrassed.

"Why, of course," Victor says. "The way you dance. You're so entrancing, Yuuri. I wish I had known to go to the ballet when you were still there."

Yuuri doesn't like to think about not being 'there' anymore. And Phichit, his good friend -- his best friend -- knows this and changes the subject away from ballet.

Except he does it by saying, loudly, "So, you want Yuuri to be your baby daddy."

"Phichit!" Yuuri hisses. He sees at least three strangers turn to look at where they're standing in the middle of the cafe.

But Victor doesn't seem bothered. Instead he's looking at Yuuri as he answers, eyes warm, "I really do."

"He'd be living with you for the pregnancy," Phichit says, as if Victor could somehow have not known this. "You'd have to take care of him."

"I don't need taking care of," Yuuri bristles.

But Victor says, as if Yuuri didn't speak, "I look forward to it." And then winks at him. "Especially the late night pickle and ice cream runs."

Yuuri groans and finds himself saying, without thinking about it, "I refuse to have that stereotypical a pregnancy."

Victor laughs and, oh no, his eyes crinkle and shine and he is far too beautiful right now.

"I shall look forward to being surprised, then," Victor says. "I do like surprises."

"You know that Yuuri hasn't agreed yet. And even when he does, he'll have until his heat to change his mind," Phichit says, voice hard. Yuuri glances at him. Phichit, even though he is two years younger, has been protective of Yuuri ever since they met as first years at the Ballet du Nord when they were seventeen and nineteen years old. But he's usually a lot more friendly about it than this unless someone has actually hurt or insulted Yuuri, which Victor has hardly done.

"Of course," Victor says. His eyes are on Yuuri still, even as he answers Phichit's question. "And I won't pressure him, but I am here to do what I can to convince him to be my baby's father."

Yuuri swallows. Nathalie had specifically warned Victor -- three more times after that first one, in fact -- against using the word 'father' to refer to his potential surrogate.

But Yuuri doesn't correct him. He doesn't delude himself that it won't be hard to give up the baby when the time comes. Phichit has stashed enough articles about surrogates and their experiences -- both good and bad, to be fair -- around the apartment for Yuuri to read this week. But Yuuri's hardly in a position in life where he's ready to start a family, and he can't imagine wanting to take a baby away from a man like Victor.

 

 

Yuuri convinces Phichit that he can leave soon after that, and then Victor buys them both coffee. Rather, Victor starts to get coffee, but, when Yuuri orders green tea, changes his order, saying he wants to try everything that Yuuri likes.

Yuuri takes a sip of his tea. It's brewed too hot, bringing out too much of the bitterness. He thinks that he'll show Victor a correctly brewed cup of sencha once they're living together, and wonders if Victor has a teapot. He could bring his but Phichit uses it, too, and he doesn't want to take it away.

And, okay, Yuuri is jumping way too far ahead here, and why does he even care if Victor knows what properly prepared green tea tastes like? He blushes into his cup and hopes Victor thinks his red cheeks are from the steam.

But then he's broken out of his reverie by Victor saying: "I want a baby."

Yuuri stares at him for a moment, then says, "I thought that was implied?"

Victor laughs, loud and infectious and Yuuri can't help but smile back.

"You haven't asked me why I want a baby, though," Victor says.

"Why do you want a baby, Victor?" Yuuri asks.

"Because I've ignored life and love for almost twenty years," Victor says, light blue eyes gone serious. "I could have skated another season or two, but I was out of inspiration. You said you watched my last program. It was about reaching for someone to love. I've been waiting too long for them to come to me. I finally decided to stop waiting."

Yuuri nods, then asks, "But why surrogacy? An alpha like you -- I mean, I wouldn't think you would have trouble finding a partner."

Victor tilts his head. "Finding _a_ partner isn't the issue. My last competition was World's back in April and, since then, I've been on more disastrous dates than you can imagine."

"You have?" It's hard to imagine any date with Victor not going fantastically.  
"You have no idea," Victor says, shaking his head ruefully. "I'll tell you about them sometime. But I don't just want any partner. I'm not a traditionalist, I've been with alphas and betas, men and women. I've had fun, believe me --" he winks at Yuuri "-- but I've never been with the right person."

"Right," Yuuri says, looking down. Of course Victor would be very, very experienced. Yuuri wonders if he'll ever have to confess how inexperienced he himself is.

"And so I thought, what if I never find that person? I still want to be the parent I never -- I still want to have a little boy or girl and show them everything in the world. I still want that even if there is no one out there for me to share that with."

"Don't say that," Yuuri says forcefully, surprised that someone like Victor could think like that. People like Yuuri think like that. Not people like Victor. "How could there not be someone out there for you?"

Victor opens his mouth, and then stops himself. And, instead, he changes the subject and asks Yuuri, "What about you? Do you want children?"

"Yes." It's an easy answer. "I love kids. I babysit for my friend Yuuko's triplets whenever I visit home. They've been terrors ever since they learned their first words, but it's still worth it. I want that. Maybe not triplets. But one child. Or two. I would want that very much."

Victor is smiling at him, looking happy with the answer. But Yuuri suddenly realizes what that just sounded like.

"Not right now, though! I don't want a baby right now," he amends quickly. "I'm twenty-three and broke and unemployed. The last thing I need right now is someone to take care of. I'd probably be dying of scurvy right now if they hadn't given me those prenatal vitamins to take. I ate expired macaroni and cheese and a ketchup packet for breakfast this morning."

Victor looks less than relieved by that, so Yuuri continues.

"I wouldn't steal your baby, I promise!" he says.

Victor raises his eyebrows. "It hadn't crossed my mind that you would."

"Well, I wouldn't," Yuuri says. "Even if I wanted to -- and I don't want to -- I'd just get arrested for kidnapping and I'd definitely never find a job with a jail record."

Victor hums. Yuuri looks down at his tea, which is almost gone, and asks himself for the thousandth time why he has to be so embarrassing.

"I called your references," Yuuri says, finally thinking of a new topic of conversation.

"You did?" Victor asks. "And what did they say?"

When Yuuri had sat down the other night to call them, he'd expected to hear a straightforward, "Yes, Victor is caring and responsible and he would make a great father." That's not exactly how it had gone.

"So your old coach, Yakov?" Yuuri says. "He said you've never been good at listening and you're impulsive and you take too many risks."

Victor's expression falters.

"But then he said that he thought you'd never try a risky jump again if you had a child who depended on you."

Victor breathes out what seems like a sigh of relief. "That's a high vote of faith from him."

"Yes, I got that impression," Yuuri says with a small smile.

"And it's true," Victor continues, meeting Yuuri's eyes seriously. "I'd never do anything to risk my child growing up without a parent."

The conviction in his voice makes Yuuri wonder about Victor's own parents. But he doesn't ask.

"And your student, who is also named Yuri, I believe?" Yuuri continues. "He said you better not let this interfere with coaching him to -- sorry, I forget the name of it, some kind of finals? -- this year. But then he also said you would be disgustingly attached to any kid you had and would probably be even more forgetful than you are now. Um, that's word for word."

Victor leans back in his chair and says, "Ah, Yura. Always so loyal."

"He also wanted me to remind you that you promised to have his new choreography ready for him by Monday," Yuuri adds.

"Right," Victor says. He clasps his hands together. "And I assume you spoke with Chris, as well?"

"Uh, yes. Chris said that you feed your dog fresh meat and vegetables prepared by a canine dietician and when you're away you board him at a camp with three separate pools and a waterfall and that you pay to have a concierge vet on call at all hours of the day and night," Yuuri says.

"So he is inferring my child-rearing abilities based on Makkachin?" Victor raises an eyebrow.

"I suppose," Yuuri says. Victor's friend's reference had actually been the most awkward of all the conversations. Chris had spent most of the time telling Yuuri what a bad idea this was and calling Victor an idiot. It would have been more concerning except that it had also been obvious that he didn't think poorly of Victor's potential parenting skills, only that he strongly disapproved of the concept of surrogacy itself. Instead of going into that part of the conversation, Yuuri says, "I didn't know you had a dog."

"Oh, I can't believe I didn't tell you about Makkachin!" Victor says. Then his eyes widen in worry. "You are okay with dogs, aren't you? You're not allergic? Or afraid of them? He's a poodle and he's very sweet, I promise. I will tell him not to bother you--"

"No, no, I love dogs," Yuuri interrupts him. Victor's sudden worry is actually surprisingly cute. "I had a poodle, too. He lived with my parents, but he passed away a few months ago." Yuuri had gotten the call from his sister the night right before the performance in which Yuuri had treated an audience of thousands to a dramatic fall and torn his ACL with only hope of a partial repair.

"I am sorry to hear that," Victor says seriously.

He reaches across the table and covers Yuuri's hand in his. Without thinking about it, Yuuri finds himself turning his hand over, and Victor threads their fingers together.

"Um, it's getting late. We should probably get going," Yuuri says.

"All right," Victor agrees. As they stand up from the table, he doesn't make any move to release Yuuri's hand, so they're holding hands when they walk out of the cafe.

"Makkachin is going to love you," Victor says.

Yuuri finds himself smiling almost against his will as they walk into the early chill of fall.

"I look forward to meeting him, too," Yuuri says.

"Does that mean you'll agree to meet me again?" Victor asks. "So I can show you where we'll be living?"

"Yes," Yuuri says.

Victor grins wide. "Excellent!" he says. He pulls up Yuuri's hand and presses his lips to his knuckles.

It an odd thing to do for someone interviewing their potential surrogate. But perhaps it's a more common gesture in Russia. Victor had mentioned in one of his texts that he was from St Petersburg and how he had moved here seven years ago along with his coach.

Victor releases Yuuri's hand. He gets halfway through turning away when Yuuri stops him.

"Victor," he says. "I'm going to do it. I mean, if you still want me to. I want to give you a baby."

Victor's eyes widen and his mouth drops open. "Really, Yuuri?" he asks.

Yuuri nods.

He doesn't have time to brace himself before Victor all but knocks him over with the force of his hug.

"Thank you, thank you, Yuuri," Victor is repeating even as Yuuri is trying to ignore how good it feels to be in his arms.

 

 

Later, Yuuri thinks about how he'd said it. That he'd wanted to give Victor a baby. He hadn't even been thinking about the money when he made the decision.

There's nothing wrong with that, though, he tells himself. It's a good thing. It means he's making the right decision, doesn't it? That he doesn't just want to do it for the money?

Even if a nagging part of his brain -- that sounds remarkably like Phichit -- is telling him that it's a dangerous idea, he knows there was never any other answer he was going to give.

 

Yuuri meets Victor in front of the building where he'd told Yuuri he'd just purchased a new apartment. Victor has a giant brown poodle on a leash and his face splits into a smile when Yuuri gives him a shy wave.

"Yuuri!" he calls. He quickly jogs down the sidewalk to meet him halfway and give him a tight hug.

And then suddenly the force of another body hitting his side almost knocks them both over.

"Ah, Makkachin, that's not a very polite way to greet your new brother or sister's father!" Victor tells him as he steps back.

Yuuri can't help but giggle as he kneels down to let Makkachin lick his face. He scratches his nails over the curly fur of his chest.

"It's nice to meet you, Makkachin," he tells him. It's bittersweet, seeing a dog that looks so much like Vicchan, just several times larger. But, at the same time, being close to a dog again, an affectionate poodle, no less, leaves his heart light in a way it hasn't been in a long time.

"I can tell already I will have competition for his affections," Victor says, a pleased note in his voice.

"Should we go in?" Yuuri asks as he stands up.

"Yes! Of course," Victor says and turns back to the building. "It's not quite ready to move in yet, but...."

 

It's a nice apartment, in a very nice part of the city, which means that Victor likely bought it for more than Yuuri will make in a lifetime. It has three bedrooms, two large bathrooms, a kitchen worthy of a chef -- even though Victor confesses he can barely turn a stove on -- and a huge open living and dining area. There's still plastic draped over the walls and floors, and paint-spattered tools sitting out in the kitchen.

Victor closed on it just a week ago, apparently. The deal is just contingent on a few minor repairs, a paint job, and a city inspection which should be just a formality.

He tells Yuuri that his loft downtown will hardly have enough room for the two of them -- there isn't even a guest room, he tells Yuuri with some chagrin -- let alone for a baby. But he promises that his new place will be ready well in time for Yuuri to move in immediately after his heat ends.

Yuuri wonders if moving in will end up being for five days, or forty weeks.

 

 

The next time they meet, it's back at Golden Conceptions.

Ever since their first meeting at the cafe, when Yuuri told Victor his decision, Victor has gotten in the habit of texting him throughout the day. It's usually nothing important. Photos of Makkachin. Asking what color Yuuri wants his room painted in the new apartment (You shouldn't base that on me! Yuuri quickly writes back). Photos of Yuuri's new room painted in the cerulean blue he had eventually coerced Yuuri into choosing.

More to the point, though, is not that Victor texts so frequently, but that Yuuri is texting back almost as often.

Phichit remarks more than once. First he just teases Yuuri about never returning his own texts so quickly, or at all most of the time. But then with increasing concern, especially when he steals Yuuri's phone and catches a text from Victor which could be misinterpreted as flirtatious.

Yuuri is less than successful at convincing him that that's just how Victor acts. It doesn't mean anything. But Phichit eventually lets the subject drop.

In any case, by the time Nathalie hands him a pen and showing him where to sign on the contract, he feels like he's known Victor a lot longer than four weeks, and a lot better than three short meetings should have allowed.

When Yuuri looks up from where he's placed his final signature on the last page of the contract, Victor is standing there watching him with warm eyes and mouth turned up in a gentle smile.

As soon as they're out of the office, Victor stops him with a hand on his arm. Yuuri raises his eyebrows.

"I have something for you," Victor says, and pushes a shopping bag that Yuuri hadn't even realized he was carrying into his hand. "You don't have to use it."

Yuuri looks inside. "You got me a t-shirt?"

"It's my shirt," Victor says, and he gives a shrug that makes him look oddly shy. "You don't have to use it," he says again. "But I've heard that having an alpha's scent makes the heat go more easily."

"Oh!" Yuuri closes the bag quickly. He wishes the part of him immediately excited at the thought of having something that smells like Victor would be a little less immediately excited about that. Because he knows all it means is that Victor's being thoughtful. And probably the idea of his child being conceived while Yuuri's smelling him, or smelling like him, even, is appealing to his alpha side.

 

 

Phichit accompanies Yuuri on the subway to the heat hotel. Yuuri's using the one he used last time. He hadn't had any problems with it then. Of course, when Victor found out how little he would be paying for Yuuri's room, he attempted to reserve him a room at the most extravagant heat hotel in the city. A hotel where Yuuri's heard of celebrity omegas having their heats. Yuuri had managed to talk him down -- though not without great difficulty -- saying that for those three days he's hardly going to appreciate anything more than a comfortable bed, and it would be easier on him, anyways, to be somewhere he was familiar with.

"You know," Phichit says, as they stop in front of the hotel. "You can still change your mind. It's not too late."

Yuuri shakes his head, adjusting his grip on the styrofoam cooler with the 'Golden Conceptions' sticker. "I don't want to change my mind."

Phichit looks at him for a long time and then shakes his head and gives him a tight hug.

"Oh, Yuuri," he says. "Well, good luck, then."

"Are you wishing me good luck at getting pregnant?" Yuuri asks with a laugh at the absurdity of it.

Phichit grins, then laughs with him. He leans in and gives Yuuri another hug, a happier one this time.

 

 

Victor had provided six samples for Yuuri to use. Yuuri had only expected a single one and when he'd blurted out his surprise, the obstetric nurse who was giving him his instructions had just shaken her head and said that Yuuri shouldn't feel obligated to use them all. They apparently only require their donors to supply one sample, preferably two just in case.

Yuuri, though, can't imagine wasting them. If he doesn't get pregnant and there were samples he didn't use, he'd never be able to face Victor again. Assuming Victor ever wanted to face him again if Yuuri wasn't pregnant. Which was unlikely, though Yuuri tries not to think about losing his new friend so soon.

He stores the preloaded syringes carefully in the mini fridge in his hotel room and makes sure the temperature is set where the nurse recommended it. The nurse had said that the highest chances of conception were during the strongest waves of his heat. Yuuri only has one heat to go by, having been on suppressants his whole time in the ballet company. But the last one had lasted three days, so Yuuri plans on using two a day.

He uses the first sample that night. The first two waves are mild. The first one he's satisfied orgasming on just his own fingers. But the third wave comes on hard and fast. He goes from the beginnings of a whole-body flush to cramping pain at not being filled in what seem like just seconds. He manages to grab the first of the syringes from the fridge before throwing himself back onto the bed and grabbing for his knotting dildo.

The orgasm is almost as painful as the heat itself, and with shaking hands Yuuri grabs the syringe and he squirts the semen inside himself, then shoves the dildo back up, gasping at the thick-slick-pressure. He fumbles for the bulb to inflate the knot, hoping the semen won't slide out with the slick. This would be so much easier with an alpha who could truly knot him.

Like...

Like Victor.

He's beyond shame as he gropes for Victor's shirt from the bedside table and desperately breathes in the sea-spice-alpha scent of him. Then he curls up around it, full with Victor's cum and the inflated knot on his dildo. His body knows this isn't real. That there's no actual alpha here taking care of him. But this is a better let-down than it could be.

 

 

Yuuri wakes up with the knot still inside him. Pre-dawn light filtering in through cracks in the window blinds. When he starts to roll over, the knot shifts in his too-sensitive ass. He gingerly deflates the bulb and pulls it out, thankful for the slick of his heat smoothing the way like an endless supply of lube.

There's a low burn in his groin, but the next wave isn't here yet. The stereotype is the mindless omega who can't think of anything but sex for the two to five days their heat lasts. But, in reality, at least for Yuuri, he's semi-coherent even during the worst waves of his heat. And, in between, he's not normal, but it's more like being buzzed than black out drunk.

Yuuri has had a few experiences of the latter, and knows too well what that's like.

He checks his phone and there's a message that must have come through while he was sleeping. Yuuri blinks his eyes and holds it close to his eyes, trying to focus on it without having to get his glasses.

> Yuuri how are you doing?  
> I hope you're taking care of yourself  
> Don't forget to eat and drink!

It's Victor. His alpha. No. Not his alpha. An alpha. An alpha who's making sure he's taking care of himself. His body likes that enough that the ever-present cramp deep in his groin relaxes just a little bit.

During his last heat, Yuuri had only remembered to eat and drink by the time he got so dizzy from lack of nourishment and all the fluid loss that he could barely make it across the room to the mini-fridge.

But, thanks to Victor, Yuuri isn't so far gone yet. He grabs a sports drink and a cup of fruit before returning to the bed.

 

It's the third day of his heat and the early morning. It will probably last until late afternoon, since his last heat had been a few hours under three days. If Victor wasn't paying for the heat hotel, he'd be doing this at home, kicking Phichit out of the apartment for the majority of the three days when Yuuri hadn't even paid rent that month. But just because Victor's paying doesn't mean Yuuri wants to waste his money. If he's out by six in the evening, he won't have to pay for another night.

He uses the fifth sample early that morning, and even though he doesn't go right to sleep, he leaves the knotting dildo in for extra insurance that the semen won't slip out. He rests his hand over his flat belly. He wonders if there's a baby growing in there already. It could be two or four cells big by now, according to Yuuri's lazy web browsing between lesser waves of his heat. Or is there an egg still patiently waiting, the sperm he just injected even now fighting for entrance.

His phone dings and Yuuri squints at it. It's another reminder from Victor to eat and drink something. Usually Yuuri just types back a couple words assuring him that he is. But this time he grabs his phone and types back:

< Just used no 5  
< Came with it inside

A part of his brain is aware that perhaps his inhibitions are lowered more than his texting dexterity is. But the part of his brain responsible for feeling embarrassed -- which is at least 95% of his brain -- isn't completely online right now.

> Jesus Christ  
> Yuuri

And, so Victor doesn't think he's not being careful with the samples, he adds,

< dildo still in so it won't leak  
< don't worry

> Yuuri  
> Yuuuuuuri

He yawns and blinks blearily down at the phone. Maybe he is going to take a nap after all.

< sleep now

> Ok  
> can I call you?  
> Next time, when you use the last one?

< After?

> Before  
> During  
> I don't want to make you uncomfortable  
> Would that be all right?

Does Victor mean he wants to talk Yuuri through it? Maybe make sure he's doing it right since it will be the last chance? No matter what, hearing his voice while smelling his shirt and knowing his alpha's cum is inside him sounds amazing.

So he types sleepily:

< Tell you when

> Thank you  
> so much  
> you're so amazing  
> sleep well  
> and don't forget to take care of yourself  
> drink something when you wake up

 

Yuuri wants to tell Victor to call as soon as he wakes up with a sheen of new sweat on his skin. But the wave coming on now he can tell is just a short one. So he doesn't text Victor yet, and leaves the last sample in the fridge.

 

The next time, he can tell it's already a major wave of his heat. It takes him a moment to focus on why this is exciting when he suddenly remembers: Victor.

He goes to the fridge, forces himself to take a long sip of one of the drinks, and then carefully takes out the last syringe of Victor's sample. Back in bed, as the heat is growing in his groin and he feels himself start to grow hard and slick even before any stimulation. He makes sure he has his knotting dildo and Victor's shirt within reach.

And then he picks up his phone and types:

< now

It rings almost as quickly as he presses enter. And he presses the button to accept the call on speakerphone.

"Victor?"

"Yuuri," Victor breathes out his name like a prayer. "Tell me what you're doing."

Yuuri glances down. He's still warming the syringe in one hand, as he reaches for his dildo with another. He feels a cramp deep in his groin and grits his teeth. If he doesn't get something inside him soon it's only going to get more and more painful.

"Nothing," Yuuri says. "Nothing, but I need--"

"It's just starting, isn't it?" Victor asks.

"Yes," Yuuri says. He grits his teeth through another wave of pain. "I need to -- I need --"

"It's okay, it's okay, I got you, Yuuri. Will you let me help you through it?"

"Yes," Yuuri says immediately. Having direction, having a voice talking him through it, sounds amazing. Even with how desperate he is, he's also exhausted.

"What do you have?" Victor asks.

"The one with the knot," Yuuri says, after the moment it takes to realize what Victor's asking. He breathes against the hot cramping deep in his belly. "The dildo, I mean, the one with the knot."

"Perfect, that's perfect, Yuuri," Victor says through the phone. "But first I want you to use your fingers for me. Can you do that?"

"Yes, I--okay," Yuuri says. He reaches down, canting his hips up with years of hard-won flexibility. He slides his fingers into his slick hole and groans.

"Oh, Yuuri," Victor breathes. "I bet you're so beautiful right now."

"Victor," Yuuri groans out. "I need--"

"Put another finger in," Victor tells him. "Will you imagine they're mine? Pretend I'm touching you? Would you do that for me?"

"Yes," Yuuri says. He drops the syringe onto the bed beside himself and uses his now free hand to grab for Victor's shirt. He takes a deep breath, burying his nose in the soft fabric. "But, Victor, I--" he breaks off with a gasp. "I need more. I need--"

"How many fingers are you using?" Victor asks.

Yuuri has to pull them out to count, he's forgotten already. "Three, but I need--it's not--"

"Jesus," he says. "You're so slick right now, aren't you?"

"So wet," Yuuri gasps out. "And hot. And I need so _much_."

"Yes, okay, Yuuri, grab your dildo now."

Yuuri exhales in relief as he reaches for his dildo, even as his hole clenches painfully with the loss of anything to fill it.

"Are you putting it in now?" Victor asks.

"Right now," Yuuri says, sliding it in with a sharp inhalation that gives him a whiff of Victor's scent from the shirt.

"Oh, Yuuri," Victor says. "You're doing so good, Yuuri. So good. I--are you imagining it's me?"

"All along," he chokes out, speeding up the thrusts of the dildo.

"All along, Yuuri?" Victor repeats, voice tight. "What do you mean?"

"For days," Yuuri groans out. "Since the beginning."

"Oh, Yuuri," Victor's voice is shaking. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. What you've been doing."

"I--" Yuuri feels another surge of heat and repositions his hips so the thrusts of the dildo hit him harder inside. "I wish it was you."

"Oh, god, Yuuri," Victor says brokenly. "I wish it was me, too. I wish I was there for you. I would--"

"Are you touching yourself?" Yuuri interrupts, suddenly needing to know.

"Of course, Yuuri, hearing you -- I'd probably die if I wasn't," Victor says.

"And you're hard?" Yuuri asks, pumping harder.

There's a choked out laugh from the phone speaker. "Oh, love, I think I've been hard ever since you texted me this morning."

"Oh, good. Good," Yuuri breathes out, imagining it. Victor in a bed like he is, touching himself while Yuuri touches himself and -- Yuuri hears himself whimper.

"Oh, you sound so amazing, Yuuri," Victor tells him. "So amazing. Tell me what you want, what you like. What can I do for you?"

"I don't know--I've never," Yuuri says. "With anyone."

"Okay, Yuuri, okay," Victor says. "That's all right. Tell me what you--"

"I need more," Yuuri interrupts, feeling tears of frustration well in his eyes. "More, Victor--"

"More? You need--" Victor starts. "You need me to knot you, don't you?"

"So much," Yuuri whimpers.

"You need me to come in you," Victor continues, sounding breathless.

" _Yes_."

"Okay, love, squirt it inside your hole for me, will you do that?"

"I am," Yuuri chokes out as he presses the plunger.

"Good. Good," Victor says.

"I'm inflating the knot," Yuuri tells him, because even as hazy as he is, he's desperate not to lose any of Victor's last sample.

"Yes, Yuuri," Victor says. "God, if I were there, I'd give you my knot as often, as long as you needed. I'd be coming inside you right now. I'd--"

Whatever else Victor says is lost by the ringing in Yuuri's ears, Victor's voice, Victor's smell, Victor's cum in him, it's too much. The knot -- Victor's knot -- keeps his slick in, but his cock paints stripes of his own cum up and down his own chest.

Yuuri pants, turning his head into Victor's shirt again, for comfort this time.

"Oh, Yuuri, are you all right, love?" Victor's voice asks from the phone, sounding like he's having to catch his breath too.

"Yes, yes," Yuuri says softly. "I'm going to leave it inside me. I don't want any of it to leak."

"Oh, god, Yuuri, are you trying to make me hard again already?"

Yuuri doesn't have the energy to process that, so he just lets himself sprawl back boneless, onto the bed.

"This is it, Yuuri," Victor tells him. "This is the time that's going to get you pregnant."

"You don't know I'm going to get pregnant at all," Yuuri says, logic slowly coming back even as tiredness starts to overcome him.

"You are," Victor tells him. "I'm sure of it. You smell so -- you have no idea, you smell so good, so _fertile_."

"Oh," Yuuri says in a small voice.

"And, god, your hips, your body -- pregnancy is going to look so good on you. I can't wait to see you carrying our baby."

A small part of Yuuri's brain thinks that the surrogacy woman wouldn't approve of Victor calling it 'our baby'. But he's too out of it to remember why.

"I'm gonna sleep now," Yuuri slurs, feeling his eyes drift shut.

"Okay, sleep well, love. You did good. So good," is the last thing he hears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm inspired by all for your kind words and kudos, thank you all! I was so pleasantly surprised to get such a nice response to my first mpreg fic.
> 
> Also, a number of people have mentioned the A/B/O surrogate plotline being unique, but I can't take credit for it. There's at least a few in the TW fandom, including [Settle Down](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1590707/chapters/3381419), which I highly recommend.
> 
> While the premise isn't unique, the plot itself, I hope you'll find, is going in a different direction. Because Victor Nikiforov is in this one and Victor does not do things the normal way.

It's a quarter to six and Yuuri is freshly showered and packing up his things from the heat hotel when his phone rings.

He frowns at the 'Golden Conceptions' caller ID and picks up.

"Hi, Yuuri, it's Nathalie. I hope your heat went well."

"Um," Yuuri says eloquently. He wonders if it's normal for them to call right afterwards to check in. Maybe she's making sure he used the samples and didn't back out. "I used all the samples."

He tries not to think of how Victor had talked him through what ended up being the last wave of his heat. As embarrassing as that is now that he's no longer under the influence of heat hormones -- and he is dreading actually seeing Victor again after that -- he doesn't think they were breaking any rules doing that. Not when in-person knotting was an option.

"Yes, I heard Victor supplied you with a few extras," she says, and Yuuri hears a chuckle in her voice.

"He did," Yuuri says. He turns on the speaker phone so that he can zip up his bag. Ten to six. He has ten minutes before Victor has to pay for another night.

"Well, I'm glad it went well. Now, there is something Victor and I wanted to talk to you about. We didn't want to trouble you during your heat, but..."

Yuuri's mind goes blank. Did Victor change his mind? Does he no longer want Yuuri to be his surrogate? But that doesn't make sense. It's only been hours since they talked and--oh, god, Yuuri could be pregnant right now. He'd had six chances and Victor said he smelled fertile and now Yuuri could be broke and jobless and _pregnant_.

"...mold."

"What was that?" Yuuri asks. His fingers twitch over the strap of his backpack.

"I said that Victor's new apartment didn't pass city inspection because of mold," she repeats.

"Oh," Yuuri says. He can feel his heart start to slow back to something approaching a normal rate. Was that it? "That's too bad."

"It means that you can't move in there yet," she says. "And given the delicate an early male omega pregnancy, I am glad they caught it in time."

Yuuri picks up his backpack. Four minutes to six.

"So I'm not going to live with him yet?" Yuuri asks. He should be glad he has a temporary reprieve to wallow alone in his embarrassment.

"Well, that's one option. You could wait to live with him until he can provide suitable accommodations," she says with a sigh. "But I know you were planning on staying with him right after your heat ended and that's still a possibility. To be honest, I still recommend that, even if it's not the ideal situation. I understand that Victor only has one bedroom in his current apartment, but you could stay with him there."

Yuuri remembers Victor saying it was too small for a second person. Does that mean he and Victor would be sharing a bed? No. Just, no. He shuts down that line of thought.

"He's also said that he would be willing to stay with you," she says. "I don't know what your current living situation is, but he would be responsible for rent and food and anything else you might need, just as if you were living with him."

Yuuri tries to picture that. Victor, in his and Phichit's crappy little apartment. Victor, sleeping on their thrift store couch that probably has more mold hidden in it than Victor's new apartment.

"That's all right," he says. One minute to six. "I can stay with Victor. If that's okay with him."

Surely Victor has a couch. It's not like Yuuri's all that picky about where he sleeps. He presses a hand to his flat belly. He wants to give this baby the best chance she can have. That means being around her alpha father, being exposed to his scent and his voice and whatever else about his presence that science, according to his curious web searches, can't explain.

"I know that will be fine with him," Nathalie says.

Six o'clock. Yuuri quickly hoists his backpack up and grabs his keycard. Maybe the reception clock will be slower than his phone and he can still make it.

"Sorry, but I have to go," he tells her. "Was there anything else?"

"That's all," she says. "I'll let you tell Victor your choice. And do let me know when you need anything."

 

 

It's five past six when he gets to the reception desk and he starts to beg the bored-looking receptionist not to count tonight. She shoots a bare glance to him. He must look utterly pitiful, exhausted and disheveled and hungry and still a little dehydrated despite trying to follow Victor's instructions to take care of himself. But she just shrugs, turns back to her magazine, and says, "It's already taken care of."

"But I tried to get here on time, and it's barely past six," he says dumbly. "Can you not count tonight?"

She glances up from her 'Ten ways to please your Alpha' magazine article and asks, "Did you want to stay here tonight?"

"No," he says quickly. No, he really doesn't. He wants to stay somewhere clean and not filled with all the scents of his own heat. What he really wants is the familiarity of his own apartment, his own room and his own bed. And an alpha -- Victor -- no, not Victor. Phichit to hold him while he sleeps. But he's not going to have that for a while, not if this works. And he's exhausted and knows he's not exactly thinking straight.

"Was there anything else?" the receptionist asks after a beat.

"No. No, that was it," Yuuri says. He pushes the key card across the counter and heads for the front doors. He had texted Phichit to let him know he'd be out by six, but Phichit had replied that practice was running late. He'd added so many sorry's and sad faces that Yuuri had actually laughed out loud. It would be nice to be around a familiar person and scent right now. The let-down after his heat is hard. Last time, he'd just cuddled into Phichit's side on the couch and dozed while Phichit updated his instagram.

But just because he wants company, doesn't mean he's an invalid who can't make it home without someone holding his hand. He'll just take the subway, and then pack a bag of clothes for the next few days and then figure out how he's going to get to Victor's apartment. And how he's possibly going to face Victor.

Out on the street, he tugs his pea coat around himself. It's already a cold year. He's not looking forward to winter. He turns down the crowded sidewalk to where the subway entrance is only a block away.

But then he hears a honk and someone... call his name? He stops and looks around. There's a pink convertible and -- oh -- there's Victor taking off his sunglasses and managing to look both windswept and perfect at the same time. He's grinning at him.

And, Yuuri really needs to emphasize this, he's in a pink convertible.

Yuuri looks around, wondering if this is a prank. It would be a pretty stupid prank to play on him, and he's not even sure what the punchline would be, but --

"Yuuri, come on in!" Victor calls. Yuuri hesitates another moment, but then he's startled by honks from the downtown traffic waiting behind Victor. Victor doesn't seem phased but it spurs Yuuri to move.

When Yuuri gets to the passenger door, Victor leans over and opens it. Yuuri carefully sits down on the bench seat next to Victor. There's barely enough room for him to hold his backpack here. And, on that note -- he glances back at the non-existent back seat -- there isn't room for a baby in here, either.

"Oh, Yuuri," Victor breathes. He's seemingly oblivious to Yuuri's thoughts as he wraps his arms around his shoulders.

Even in the city night air, with all the smells of cars and gasoline and crowds of people on the sidewalk, Yuuri's nose is filled with the sea-spice-alpha scent of him. He's embarrassingly familiar with the scent from these last few days. But no matter how nice this feels, how much he craves Victor's scent and his arms around him, it also makes him remember that last wave of his heat. He stiffens in Victor's arms.

Victor must notice, because he releases him. As he pulls away, he starts saying, "Yuuri, I want--"

But he's interrupted by the blast of a car horn behind them. He straightens up and flashes the driver a blinding smile that Yuuri is pretty sure would make anyone forgive Victor anything.

Victor adjusts the gear shift and moves the pink convertible into downtown traffic.

"How did you know I'd be here now?" Yuuri asks, looking around them.

"Phichit," Victor says. "He said his practice was running late and he couldn't pick you up."

"Right," Yuuri says. He's about to ask since when Phichit and Victor even communicate, but has no doubt Phichit stole Victor's contact info from Yuuri's phone. He just hopes that he hasn't been threatening Victor this whole time. Or texting him anything embarrassing. Or, more likely, both.

"Is it all right that I came?" Victor asks, voice suddenly unsure.

"Yes, yes, of course," Yuuri says. He looks down at his lap. "Just--where are we going?"

"Did Nathalie talk to you?"

"Yes," Yuuri says. He fiddles with the strap of the backpack in his lap. "I'm sorry about your new place. When will it be ready?"

"I don't know," Victor says, his voice still has that cautious note to it. It makes him not sound like himself at all. "Would you still spend the next days with me, Yuuri? I know it's not ideal, but--"

"Yes," Yuuri says. "I don't want to impose, but can we stay at your place, though? "

"Impose?" Victor gives a laugh as he inches the car forward through the traffic. It sounds just as much like relief as amusement. He looks at Yuuri and Yuuri meets his eyes this time. "You're carrying our baby. Nothing you want could impose on me."

"Your baby," Yuuri corrects.

"What?"

"It's your baby, not ours." Yuuri adjusts the backpack strap in his lap aimlessly. "If there even is a baby. We don't know I'm pregnant yet."

There's a long pause and then Victor says a stiff, "Right. Of course."

"But I want to do the best I can for her," Yuuri says.

"Me, too," Victor says softly. And then, in a brighter voice, he teases, "'Her', though, Yuuri? Are you so sure it's a girl?"

Yuuri remembers all the squares they had to fill out in high school biology. Normally, the chances of having a boy or girl are about 50/50. But for two men -- which would have to be an alpha male and omega male -- There's a twenty-five percent chance of a girl, fifty percent chance of a boy and twenty-five percent chance the sperm and egg aren't even compatible. Yet another reason his pregnancy is more precarious than most.

"No, but -- It just seemed right. Is that a problem?" Yuuri asks. Maybe he should be thinking of the baby as 'him', instead. Or 'it'. Or just as a hypothetical, because calling her 'her' makes it sound like she's already there, already exists inside of him.

"Not at all," Victor says, as he changes lanes to the honks of both the car behind them and the car in the other lane he then cuts off. He glances at Yuuri. "I will adore any baby you give me, Yuuri."

And that's why he's doing this, Yuuri thinks. Because he believes Victor that he will. Well, and also because of the funds reimbursing him for the attempt at conception during his heat -- which should be deposited in his bank account by tomorrow.

 

As Victor turns into an underground garage, Yuuri gets a glimpse of the modern glass downtown building he must live in. Victor slides an access pass and parks in one of the two spaces set aside from the others.

Yuuri hoists his backpack over his shoulder and sees Victor grab a suitcase from the back of the convertible. It has a suspiciously familiar scuff mark on the corner.

"Phichit?" Yuuri asks.

Victor's lips twitch up as he presses the lock button on the car. "He thought you might appreciate having more of your clothes and things with you."

Yuuri bites his lip. "You guys didn't have to go out of your way like that. I could have just taken the subway back to my place tomorrow and picked up some things."

"Well, now you don't have to," Victor says, and flashes him a grin. He gestures for Yuuri to precede him into the elevator. He pushes the eleventh floor and inserts a key. He glances at Yuuri as the elevator starts to rise. "Ah, we'll have to get you a key tomorrow."

Yuuri wonders what kind of place requires a key in the elevator.

Apparently, the kind of place where he gets attacked by a large poodle upon walking through the door. Yuuri isn't prepared for him and is knocked back down on his back. Makkachin steps over him and gives his cheek a slobbery lick.

"Makkachin!" Victor says, and Makkachin looks back at his owner. Taking his time, he climbs back off of Yuuri and goes to sit in front of Victor.

Yuuri stands back up while Victor kneels in front of Makkachin, saying seriously, "Now, Yuuri is going to stay with us for a while. And he's going to give you a little brother or sister soon. So you must behave around him, all right?"

Yuuri bites his lip against the laugh that tries to bubble out. He wishes he could record this and send it to Phichit. Victor is seriously adorable, talking like this to his dog.

Makkachin pants happily, which Victor must take as an affirmative. So he turns back to Yuuri and says, "He'll be more careful with you now."

"It's fine," Yuuri says. "My old poodle... he used to do the same thing. Except he weighed about fifty pounds less than Makkachin."

Victor gestures into the apartment, "Come on in."

It's bigger than Victor made it sound, all shiny wood floors and floor-length windows. Beyond the living room, there's a kitchen shining with steel-colored appliances.

Yuuri toes off his ratty sneakers in the foyer. "Yuuri, come here, and bring your bag!" Victor calls as he heads into a hallway off the side of the living room.

Yuuri picks his backpack up from where it had fallen when Makkachin jumped on him and follows Victor into the bedroom. Victor has Yuuri's suitcase set next to the dresser, so Yuuri puts his backpack down beside it. Victor's opening a drawer.

"Here," he says. "I cleared this one for you, and the one below it. And then--" he opens a door to a large walk-in closet and Yuuri stares. Victor gestures at a few feet of bare hangers and runs a hand through his hair. "I know it's not much. I'll find you more room. When we move, I'll get you your own room, soon, too," he says. "I'm sorry, it's not much--"

"It's fine," Yuuri says. Victor's shoulders seem to relax a little at that.

"You'll sleep here." Victor gestures at the huge bed in the middle of the room. Yuuri thinks it's probably a king size, but he's never slept in a bed this big before. He can't help but wonder who else has slept here.

He feels very naive all of a sudden. He can't even imagine the kind of sex positions that would require a bed of this size.

Then he catches the dog-eared "When Your Omega's Expecting" on the bedside table. For all that Phichit's internet searches and Victor's own admission make him out to be some sort of rich playboy, that book there seems to tell a new story.

"No, no," Yuuri says. "The couch is fine. I won't take your bed."

"Yuuri," Victor says. He steps into Yuuri's space, so they're almost touching, but not quite, and glances down at Yuuri's middle, then back up. "You're carrying our baby. You're not sleeping on the couch."

Yuuri doesn't see how that matters. The baby, if there is one, is no larger than a few cells right now. But he gets the feeling this isn't an argument he's going to win, so he just mumbles an acknowledgement.

 

They eat dinner -- delivery ordered from a nearby restaurant, fresher and with more vegetables than anything Yuuri's had to eat in a long time. Yuuri is starving after his heat and has to force himself to eat at a normal human pace. He could have probably used two or three times the portion he'd told Victor to order for him, but he hadn't wanted Victor to think he was a pig at their first meal together.

Afterwards, when Yuuri can't get Victor to ignore how much he's yawning, Victor announces it's time for bed.

Victor changes into a soft-looking v-neck and loose sweatpants and heads for the couch. Yuuri wonders if he'd feel as comfortable as he looks right now. If Victor, who's free with his hugs in the daytime, would be just as cuddly at night.

Or if the reason for the huge bed is a way to avoid cuddling with his partners. It's not as if Yuuri wants to think about Victor with other people, but the thought is disappointing all the same.

Of course, once Yuuri's in bed, he doesn't sleep. He's restless and agitated and alone. He's still coming down from the heat and the sheets smell more like laundry soap than Victor. Yuuri wishes he had Victor's shirt still with him. He's half tempted to grab something out of the laundry hamper he'd seen in the closet, but he decides he hasn't reached that level of pathetic.

Plus, he'd have to explain it if Victor caught him.

Yuuri's been on suppressants since he was sixteen and started dancing professionally. He'd only had a couple heats before then, and they were a blur. The first heat he'd had since then was last summer, when he went off suppressants at his surgeon's insistence. He'd craved company and Phichit had been there for him. But he hadn't craved Phichit's presence like he craves Victor's right now. Victor might not be his alpha, but he is an alpha, and his scent accompanied Yuuri all through the last few days.

Maybe the primitive omega part of his body thinks that Victor was actually there and now wonders where he went when Yuuri still needs him.

Yuuri reminds himself, again, that Victor is not his alpha. He has no claim on Victor aside from being paid to carry his baby. And maybe Yuuri will sleep poorly, or not at all, stuck in this let-down of tear-pricking emptiness. But he'll survive it, pride somewhat intact.

Except the baby... the baby. The whole reason he's here right now and not in his own bed is so he can be close to Victor, not so he can feel so far away. Letting his omega believe that his alpha abandoned him can't be good for his chances of conception.

And he doesn't want to lose this chance.

So he gets out of bed. The mattress is so soft and expensive that it doesn't even creak with the movement. He pads into the living room, lit by the large uncurtained windows that let in the nighttime city light. Victor is lying back on the couch, legs up on the armrest with Makkachin taking up a good portion of the space. Yuuri doesn't know if Victor was already awake or if Yuuri's gaze somehow woke up, but suddenly Victor's eyes are on him.

"Yuuri?" Victor asks, voice hoarse as he props himself on his elbows.

"Sorry," Yuuri says. He hadn't thought about how he was going to say it. I'm craving your scent? Will you please hold me and let me smell you? "I'm sorry to wake you up. I just--"

"What is it?" Victor sits all the way up, tossing his blanket to the side.

"I hope I didn't wake you up. I just -- I mean, after my heats, I usually feel like --" Yuuri starts, and then thinks, good job, just make yourself sound needy and vulnerable. He twists the hem of his old t-shirt in his fingers. "I mean, it might be good for the baby if --"

"Yuuri," Victor says in a low voice. He stands up and takes a couple steps towards Yuuri, but he doesn't touch him. "Tell me. I'll give you whatever you need."

"Your bed doesn't smell like you," Yuuri blurts out.

"All right," Victor says slowly. "I did wash the sheets before you got here, but--"

"I want you," Yuuri interrupts. He finally looks up and it's just in time to see Victor's light eyes widen. "I want you to sleep with me," he says. Then quickly amends. "Not like that. And you don't have to! I -- oh, god, maybe you can just give me another shirt like before?"

"Oh, Yuuri, it's still the last day of your heat, of course you need--" Victor stops himself, as he reaches out for Yuuri. "Is this all right?"

"Yes," Yuuri says quietly. "Please. You don't have to. But. Please?"

Victor circles his arms around Yuuri's shoulders. "I thought after what you said, that you didn't want to be this close. But your omega thinks I've abandoned you, doesn't it?"

Yuuri lets Victor tug him in closer. He rests his head on his muscled chest, and breathes in. Sea-spice-alpha. Victor is, after all, as soft as he looks in the thin v-neck. Yuuri feels his whole body relax and he hugs his arms around Victor's narrow waist, as much to stay close as to keep himself from collapsing into a pile of tired Yuuri.

Victor's arms tighten around his shoulders.

"I was embarrassed," Yuuri admits. He can hear his own voice muffled against Victor's chest. "I shouldn't have done... what I did. Earlier."

"What?" Victor leans back and looks at Yuuri. Yuuri studiously avoids his gaze. "But you have nothing to be embarrassed about. You were so amazing, Yuuri."

"It was the heat hormones," Yuuri says quickly. "I don't want you to think that I would want that from you. I'm here to be your surrogate and I want to give you a healthy baby. I didn't mean to do... that with you."

There's a pause, and Victor's body stiffens against Yuuri for a moment before he says evenly, "I understand."

"You do?"

"Yes," Victor says. He brushes a thumb over the side of Yuuri's neck. "I'm paying you to have my baby. Of course not for anything more than that."

"Right," Yuuri says. He should be relieved. He is relieved. He knew that there was no way Victor would be interested in him like that. Victor's probably relieved, too, that Yuuri brought it up. It's good to have it in the open

"Should we go to bed, then?" Victor asks.

"Yes," Yuuri says, dropping his head back onto Victor's shoulder as he yawns. Victor chuckles softly and rubs his back. Then he leads him back to the bedroom.

Once they're under the covers, Yuuri immediately settles in against Victor. He wraps an arm around his chest and nestles his head into his shoulder and inhales his alpha scent.

Victor leans over him and buries his face in Yuuri's neck, breathing deeply. His fingers clench at Yuuri's waist and he asks, "Would it help -- can I--?"

"Yes," Yuuri says immediately. "Yes, please."

Victor hums and proceeds to scent him, rubbing his cheek over the crook of Yuuri's neck. Yuuri tightens his arm around him. His last thought before falling asleep is that he'll wake up tomorrow and smell like Victor all over, and he doesn't know whether it's himself or his primitive omega side or even the hypothetical baby inside of him but he wants that very much.

 

 

When Yuuri wakes up, he's sprawled face-down over a muscled chest, and his legs are tangled in someone's legs and -- oh. Victor. He contemplates pretending he's still asleep, so he doesn't have to move from this position.

But there's light streaming in through the windows and when he moves his head up, he can see Victor doing something with his phone. It reminds him that Victor, unlike him, has a job. And actual responsibilities to meet.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Victor says, dropping his phone onto the bedsheets beside them and looking down at Yuuri. He has a gentle smile on his face and he rubs a hand over Yuuri's back.

At least the exhaustion from his heat seems to have affected Yuuri unconscious libido, because there are no embarrassing parts pressed hard against Victor's thigh this morning -- like would certainly normally be a possibility.

"Is there anything you need to do today?" Victor asks as he pushes a strand of hair back from Yuuri's forehead.

"No?" He wonders if that sounds pathetic. He's unemployed and doesn't have anything to except try to fix that. He adds, "I'm probably going to send in some job applications."

"What for?" Victor asks.

"Whatever's advertising," Yuuri says. He stretches and sits up in the bed cross-legged, facing Victor. "I got rejected from a fast food drive-in last week. I can't exactly afford to be picky."

Victor tilts his head, eyeing him for a moment. "Why not be picky, Yuuri? You're a lead ballerina."

"Was a lead. But I could teach. And not just ballet. I was a dance major in college. I could probably teach four, maybe five, different types of dance. But none of the studios have openings for a teacher right now. At least, they don't have openings for _me_."

"But you have time," Victor tells him. "You don't have to worry about needing money right now. Something could open up in the next year."

Yuuri runs his hand through his messy hair and grabs his glasses from the bedside table. Now that he can see him clearly, Victor looks perfect as always, every hair in place -- or, rather, charmingly disarrayed. He doesn't even have any pillow creases across his cheeks. Yuuri's seen himself in the mornings and is pretty sure his own appearance could frighten a small child.

A small child. A baby. A baby inside him. He finds himself pressing his hand to his flat abdomen. He sees Victor follow the movement with his eyes.

If there is a baby growing there, under his hand, then it might be true that he has time.

 

 

Yuuri steps into the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed in jeans and a jacket with the Ballet du Nord logo.

"Let's go get breakfast!" Victor is picking up Makkachin's bowl, which has been licked to look almost clean. He puts it in the dishwasher. "What do you want?"

"Um, anything is good," Yuuri says. "But, uh, first--" He holds up the bottle of vitamins from his bag. Even during his heat, he had remembered to take them with an alarm on his phone.

"Prenatal vitamins!" Victor says excitedly.

"I just need a glass of, um, water is fine," Yuuri says. He's used to having orange juice first thing in the morning, but he didn't see anything resembling that in a quick glance in Victor's fridge last night.

It is a waste of a well-equipped kitchen, though, he can't help but think. Up close, all the appliances look even fancier and even more expensive. His mother would love this kitchen. At that thought, he feels a pang for the warm and well-used kitchen at the original Yu-topia, the inn his parents had run in Japan before they moved to the US. He used to spend hours there as a chubby little kid, sampling bites of all the dishes as his mother tried to teach him to cook. But it was obvious, even from a young age, that Yuuri was not meant for a life working at the inn.

"I can make eggs," Yuuri offers. He reaches for the fridge, hoping he's not imposing by snooping around Victor's kitchen. Except it turns out there don't appear to be even eggs in the fridge either. There are carefully labeled meals for Makkachin taking up the top shelf, but that's about it. He frowns. "Do you not even have eggs?"

It doesn't make a lot of sense. Victor's slender but he must eat well enough for all the muscle he has. He is a lot richer than Yuuri, though, after all, and can probably afford to eat his meals out.

"We'll get some! We'll go grocery shopping," Victor announces. He sounds entirely too excited at that prospect. "And we'll get you keys made. And--what else do we have to do?"

Yuuri shrugs. He doesn't have anything he needs done. He bends down and pets Makkachin, who immediately flops over to his back on the polished tile floor for a belly rub.

"Oh, but I need to be at the rink at eleven to coach Yuri," Victor says apologetically.

"Okay," Yuuri says, not sure why Victor is apologizing.

"Will you come?" Victor asks. Then he grins, gathering steam. "You can meet him! It will be confusing, though. Yuri, Yuuri. We'll need a nickname. Yura, Yurochka, Yurio --"

 

"What did you just call me?" The teen's blue eyes flash dangerously.

"Yurio," Victor announces happily. "It's your new name. We can't have two Yuris."

"I was the first Yuri," the teen spits out, and turns his angry eyes to Yuuri. " _He_ should be Yurio. Just because he's your mate doesn't mean--"

"No, no," Yuuri waves his arms in front of himself. "I'm not his mate. I'm his surrogate. Remember, you talked to me on the phone?

"Yuuri is the father of my baby," Victor tells Yurio, and he gives Yuuri a hug from behind, wrapping his arms around his waist. He leans his chin on Yuuri's shoulder, the hard line of it digging into the muscle. Yuuri knows he should step away, and probably correct Victor, too, for calling him the father.

But Yuuri can't keep himself from feeling comfort in his embrace. It's the day after his heat, after all. If the physical affection continues, he'll just have to keep reminding himself that it's for the baby. Victor's affection is not for him.

"You're younger than I thought," Yuuri blurts out to Yurio, desperate to change the subject.

Yurio juts his chin in the air. "I'm fifteen. This year is my senior debut."

"Oh, that's great," Yuuri says. He's not entirely sure what that means that it's his senior debut, but Yurio seems to think it's a good thing. "I just meant -- Wait, Victor?" He turns around to look at him and Victor's arms loosen around him. "You used a fifteen year old as your reference?"

Victor shrugs. "Who better to vouch for my parenting skills?"

"What parenting skills?" Yurio snorts. "I'm the one who has to keep track of everything around here. Like how you're late to practice _again_ , old man."

 

Yuuri waits by the edge of the rink while Victor goes to the locker room to change and Yurio warms up. A few young teens are stretching on the other side, otherwise they're alone.

He's not sure if it's rude or not to watch, but he knows that he wouldn't like getting stared at while he was doing his warm-ups. So he pulls out his phone and immediately cringes at the number of texts on the screen from Phichit. Apparently he'd forgotten to turn it off silent mode last night.

He texts back apologies and 'I'm fine' and 'Victor is very kind', and then remembers to thank him for packing the suitcase for him. And then glances at the time and quickly types, 'Don't reply! I know you're with Mme Baranovskaya right now.'

He's interrupted by the sound of an angry, "So you're a ballet dancer."

Startled, he almost drops his phone as he looks up to see Yurio at the wall of the rink in front of him.

"Oh, um, no," he says. "I got injured."

"So you don't dance at all?" Yurio narrows his eyes at him.

"No. I do. But not professionally anymore," Yuuri says.

"Were you any good?" Yurio demands, crossing his arms in front of himself. He blows his blonde hair up off his face. "Victor says you're good."

"Victor's very kind," Yuuri says. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his Ballet du Nord jacket. It's colder in the rink than he'd thought. He should have worn something warmer. Next time -- if there is a next time -- he'll wear gloves. "I wasn't that good."

"Victor's a lot of things," Yurio says as he starts to skate off. He throws over his shoulder, "But he's not _kind_."

Yuuri watches him build up speed and then do a jump, taking off from behind and then landing with his arms outstretched, blades making a clean cut in the ice.

Yuuri glances over at the locker room doors just in time to see Victor striding out in a warmup suit and skates. Victor flashes him a big smile and Yuuri gives him a shy one in return.

It's embarrassing how much his omega missed Victor for the few minute separation. But Yuuri's omega would have been most content spending the day after his heat huddled under the covers in bed with what he thought was his alpha. It makes sense, he supposes, that his omega would be confused, what with him spending the days of his heat smelling him, even having his seed inside of him. And, let alone, that last wave of his heat with Victor on the phone and -- he's not thinking about that, because his cheeks are already heating in embarrassment and if he remembers too much he's going to have to run away and hide somewhere Victor will never find him.

"Yuuri," Victor says as he walks up to the bench where Yuuri's sitting. His eyes are soft as he looks at him and how wrong Yurio is, saying that Victor is not 'kind'.

"Come watch," Victor tells him. And then guides him to the wall of the rink. He wraps an arm around Yuuri's waist and leans the other on the wall. Yuuri is not embarrassed to say -- all right, a little embarrassed to say -- that he sinks into Victor's warm embrace in relief. Victor's arm tightens around him.

"You are so nice to hold, Yuuri," Victor murmurs. Yuuri flushes. He thinks he should tell him it's probably his own post-heat hormones making Victor's alpha instinctually want to comfort him. But he doesn't get the chance when Victor turns and starts calling out direction to Yurio across the ice.

 

To Yuuri's relief, the rink was downtown, only a few blocks from Victor's apartment and the restaurant where they'd gotten breakfast. So they'd walked there rather than taking Victor's pink convertible. Yuuri thinks he could live a long happy life without getting in that car again. Victor must be planning on buying a more practical car. Something with a backseat and a roof, at least. Hopefully before winter.

They step out onto the sidewalk and the autumn chill almost feels warm compared to the ice rink. Victor catches him failing to hide a yawn.

"Tired, Yuuri?" he teases.

"I'm not usually like this," Yuuri promises. "It's just the day after my heat and--"

"Oh, Yuuri." Victor stops and faces him. "You should have said something. Of course you're tired! And I dragged you out here. I am a terrible alpha."

Yuuri protests, "No, no, it was fine. I liked meeting Yurio in person. And seeing him skate. He's really good."

"He's too cocky," Victor says, echoing some of his earlier criticisms during the training session. "But, come on, let's go home. We'll put you to bed and you can rest."

"But what about the errands?" Yuuri asks. "I'm fine, really."

"It'll wait," Victor tells him. "We'll order something in for dinner. You have to take care of yourself for the baby, Yuuri."

The baby. Right. How he'd forgotten, even if it had only been for a moment, he's not sure. But he needs to be listening to his omega, doing whatever his omega needs from him.

Which is the only thing giving him the courage to say, "Will you come to bed with me, then? I'm sorry I'm so clingy. It's only because it's the day after and--"

"Of course, Yuuri!" Victor exclaims, and he has a grin on his face. He throws his arms around Yuuri. It makes walking difficult, but Yuuri likes it anyways.

 

They're in Victor's bed not that much later. Victor's wrapped around him, Yuuri settled back into his broader chest and shoulders, Victor's strong arms circled around his waist. Makkachin, warm and cuddly, is asleep, snoring softly on his other side.

Victor tells him, "I think I could hold you forever."

And Yuuri wonders what kind of person it takes to say things like that so casually. Definitely not someone like Yuuri. Especially when, if he said it, there's a chance he might actually mean it.

"You know," Victor muses, cutting into his thoughts. "I wonder how big you'll get."

It takes a moment for Yuuri to realize he's talking about when he's pregnant, not if Yuuri is going to put on his usual off-season weight, now that he's permanently off-season.

"Do you think I'll still be able to reach around you?" Victor asks.

"I don't know," Yuuri says. He realizes he hasn't really thought much of the realities of pregnancy, besides the fact of getting pregnant, and ending up some months later with a baby to give to Victor. And how being pregnant means being able to pay rent. He can only imagine Phichit's reprimands for not really thinking about what he was getting himself into.

Victor hums and presses a palm over Yuuri's stomach, through his thin t-shirt. Yuuri might not have the definition of abs, but his stomach's still flat. Especially after barely eating these past few days. Omegas usually stock up on calories in the days before their heats, but Yuuri couldn't afford extra food.

Victor murmurs, "I can't wait to see."

"It is strange, though, isn't it?" Yuuri says. He rolls over to his back and looks at Victor, whose pale skin is practically glowing in the golden afternoon sunlight. "I could be pregnant right now and we'd wouldn't even know."

"I'm sure you are," Victor says. He rubs his hand up Yuuri's stomach. "Your scent's changed."

"You really think you can smell that?" Yuuri doesn't know when his smell is supposed to change but that hardly seems possible, not when the baby would be just a few cells.

"It's subtle." Victor presses his face into Yuuri's neck and takes a deep breath. "You always smelled so fertile but it's something more than that now."

Yuuri is still skeptical, but doesn't argue.

 

 

The next day, Yuuri wakes up to the sound of the shower. He's momentarily confused at the direction it's coming from, and then the stranger's bed he's sleeping in, and the dog snuggled up to his back. Then it comes back to him where he is and why he's here.

He grabs the pair of thin sweatpants and a t-shirt from the suitcase Phichit packed. Yuuri hasn't unpacked, despite the space Victor had made for him. It's possible he will only be here for a few more days and it doesn't seem worth it for that.

Since Victor's still in the shower, he chances changing quickly in the bedroom, then heads out to the living room. He hopes Victor won't mind when he pushes the coffee table a foot to the side so there's enough free space to do his usual stretches.

He's transitioning into a stretch on the floor when he suddenly finds a dog head in his lap and a tail thumping. He laughs out loud at the surprise and absurdity of it. He leans forward into the stretch, coincidentally just in position to give Makkachin a tummy rub.

"Why, good morning, Yuuri," he hears. He turns his head around without breaking the stretch. He realizes the smile from laughing at Makkachin is on his face, but Victor's leaning in the doorway, grinning happily at him, so he doesn't feel too stupid.

"Hi, Victor," Yuuri says. "I hope you don't mind. I moved the table. I usually stretch in the morning."

"Of course not! This is your home, too, until we move," Victor says.

Or for three more days, Yuuri thinks.

He can hear Victor opening the fridge from behind him and he thinks he feels Victor's eyes on him as he lifts himself into the next stretch. Makkachin gives him a pitiful look when it's clear that petting him doesn't fit into this stretch at all.

Yuuri straightens his legs and bends forward. He's adjusting his glasses as they threaten to fall, and suddenly hears a choking sound from the kitchen.

"Victor?" Yuuri jumps up as Victor keeps coughing. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Victor wheezes, even as his face is turning a concerning purple-red. He's holding an apple, which is the obvious culprit.

Luckily, by the time Yuuri makes it to the kitchen, Victor seems to have recovered himself.

He clears his throat and says, "You are very flexible, Yuuri. Yurio should be jealous."

"Oh," Yuuri says. "Thanks. It was part of my job to be."

"Of course," Victor says. He -- with a courage Yuuri isn't sure he himself would possess -- takes another bite of his almost-lethal apple.

Yuuri opens one of the cupboards and takes the bottle of prenatal vitamins out. It hadn't been inconvenient to keep them in his backpack, but Victor had insisted on having them in the kitchen. He'd placed them up in the cupboard for Yuuri with a strange amount of ceremony.

He pours himself a glass of water and swallows one of the vitamins.

"I wanted to go for a jog," Yuuri tells Victor. He's feeling better, more like himself today, now that the fatigue and clinginess of the day after his heat have dissipated. "I was wondering --"

"Of course I'd love to join you!" Victor interrupts.

"Um, I was actually going to ask if I could bring Makkachin," Yuuri says. But then, as Victor's expression starts to turn into a pout, he quickly amends, "But of course you are invited too."

 

Yuuri notices the footsteps and the sound of panting dog at his side have faded.

He stops and looks back to see Victor hunched over, hands on his knees as he catches his breath. Makkachin is giving him a concerned look. Yuuri jogs back with a frown.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

"I'm fine," Victor says, sounding short of breath for the second time that morning. He tilts his head up and eyes Yuuri. Yuuri feels a little self-conscious at the look, knowing his cheeks are flushed hot and his hair is sticking unattractively flat to his forehead. His shirt is getting sweaty despite the chilly morning and his pants keep bunching up awkwardly around his clunky knee brace.

Victor, despite how he's leaning over to catch his breath, looks like he could be photographed for a fitness magazine. His long-sleeved shirt hugs his muscled shoulders and arms and tapers at his waist in a way that makes Yuuri wonder if he gets his exercise clothes tailored. His training pants show off his slim hips and thighs. His light blue eyes sparkle under his white-blond hair. Yuuri doesn't know if he should be jealous or insanely attracted to him right now.

No, jealous. He should be jealous. Definitely not the other option.

"I was actually thinking another mile." Yuuri glances ahead of them. They've made it almost through the big park downtown -- and beaten all the other runners out on the trails -- and Yuuri was thinking of going up the hill ahead before turning around. But, at Victor's expression, Yuuri says. "Or now. Yes, we can turn around now."

Victor shakes his head, giving him a rueful smile. "You have incredible stamina, you know, Yuuri."

"Oh, thanks." This is the hardly the first time Yuuri's been told that. At least he still has that going for him. Even if stamina is a lot less useful in the real world than it was for doing high difficulty solos onstage.

 

"What's your favorite food?" Victor asks that night. He's leaning on the counter next to Yuuri. Yuuri's stirring the vegetables they'd bought at the store today. Makkachin is sitting at his feet, staring at the stove with intense anticipation.

Victor is absently running his hand up and down Yuuri's back as he cooks, as if he thinks any moment they're not touching is a wasted opportunity to convince the baby to be real.

Yuuri's omega has no objections to that at all. The rest of him, either, if he's honest. Which is the stranger part. He didn't grow up with a physically affectionate family; as warm as they are, it isn't part of their culture. Phichit is one of the few, maybe the only, who's snuck in under Yuuri's ingrained barriers, and it took him plenty of time.

Victor, in bare weeks of knowing him, has somehow made it past these boundaries. Yuuri would say it was because his omega was confused about having him as his alpha during his heat, but he hadn't objected to Victor's enthusiastic embraces before that, either.

That morning at the rink, Victor had tugged Yuuri into a close hug as he called out directions to Yurio. Unlike the day before, when Yuuri's omega had been near the surface and couldn't have cared what anyone thought as long as he had Victor nearby, today Yuuri couldn't help but feel self-conscious every time he caught Yurio's narrowed eyes on him. Plus, he didn't want Victor to feel like he has to keep doing this when Yuuri didn't crave the intimacy so desperately anymore.

He'd whispered that to Victor where they stood at the wall to the rink. But Victor had pointed out that the whole reason for them spending these early days together was to be close and maximize Yuuri's chances of conception. And so, guilt assuaged, Yuuri decided he didn't need to argue with that, and instead leaned closer into his embrace.

"Pork cutlet bowl," Yuuri tells Victor now. He pours some more oil over the pan. "It's call katsudon in Japanese. It's my mother's specialty at her inn."

Victor hums. "We should have it, then! I want to try it."

Yuuri presses the button to turn off the burner and turns to Victor. "There are a few places in the city that make it. I just don't have it very often. I gain weight too easily."

"Well, now you're supposed to gain weight," Victor tells him. "So we shall have pork cutlet bowls whenever you want them."

"You mean every night?" Yuuri teases. He reaches up for the cupboard where he saw some plates earlier and grabs a couple.

"For breakfast, too, if you want," Victor tells him, tracing his fingers down Yuuri's back.

"That might be too much for even me," Yuuri says. He scoops rice onto each plate and then divides the contents of the saucepan. He hands Victor one of plates and wonders belatedly if he should have put the meal in serving bowls and actually set the table. He's spent too long living with Phichit and trying to use as few dishes as possible. Partly so they'd have fewer to wash. Partly because they don't actually have that many.

Phichit calls their mismatched collection of dinnerware trendy and eclectic. Yuuri secretly thinks it just looks like they've shopped at too many thrift stores. Which would not be far from the truth.

Victor, however, has whole complete sets of matching dishes with enough of everything for a three course meal for a large dinner party. And he has a dishwasher that looks barely used. Yuuri had caught Victor turning it on this morning with nothing but Makkachin's bowl in it.

At least Victor doesn't seem to mind the lack of formality. He takes a bite from his plate right there in the kitchen and exclaims, "Vkusno!"

Yuuri doesn't know what that means, but it sounds like a good thing.

"I didn't know you could cook, Yuuri," he says.

"I can't, really," Yuuri says. He takes his own plate into the dining room and Victor sits next to him. "It's just a stir fry. I know a few things from watching my mother. Phichit and I have to eat healthy for dancing and it's cheaper to cook."

"But this is really good," Victor says. Yuuri wonders if his surprise is because of the time Yuuri told him he was eating expired macaroni and cheese for breakfast. He cringes inwardly in memory of that confession. But Victor's continuing, "I should really be providing for you, though. It's only two days after your heat. I am a terrible alpha."

"Hmm? Why?" Yuuri says between mouthfuls of food. "But you're not my alpha. I'm just trying to be a good guest."

There's a short pause, and then Victor frowns at him. "You're not a guest, Yuuri. You're carrying our baby."

Yuuri resolutely ignores the 'our' and says, "All right, then we're like roommates, I guess? You know, Phichit and I each only know how to make one dinner, really, but we still have to keep two different kinds of rice in our apartment at all times."

"I know!" Victor says. "I'll learn how to make katsudon. That will be my specialty."

"And how are you going to learn?" Yuuri raises an eyebrow at him. Getting all the parts of katsudon to taste right is beyond his own culinary skills.

"Your mother can teach me," Victor informs him decisively. Yuuri fights to keep from visibly cringing. None of his family knows that he was even considering being a surrogate. They know he injured his knee but he doesn't think they even actually know that he was let go from the Ballet du Nord.

Yuuko had been one of his references for Golden Conceptions, but he'd sworn her to secrecy. Plus, she has no idea that he's actually going through with it. Phichit and Minako were his other two references, and Yuuri still hasn't told Minako, either.

Yuuri will just have to count on Victor forgetting about the idea. Yurio had said he was very forgetful, right?

 

 

"I think you are more nervous than I am," Victor says. They're half a block away from Golden Conceptions, in sight of the sign.

"I have more to lose than you do," Yuuri says. And then abruptly stops walking and looks at Victor, horrified at himself. "I didn't mean that, oh my god, I didn't, I swear. You have a baby at stake and I'm just--"

Just in it for the money? Just wishing for more time with Victor, as temporary as that time may be? Just feeling inappropriately invested in having this baby? Not even for him to keep, but for her to just _exist_ in the world.

Yuuri presses a hand to his stomach through his pea coat.

"Yuuri," Victor says. He slides his palm over Yuuri's cheek, interrupting his thoughts. Yuuri looks up at him. "It's going to be all right."

"But--" Yuuri starts.

Victor circles an arm around Yuuri's waist and leans in, touching his forehead to his. He tells Yuuri, "Whatever happens today, this is _not_ over."

"Victor?" Yuuri asks. He blinks against the wetness he hadn't even known was there. He hopes his stupid tears are hidden by his glasses.

"Look, you have to know that I--"

"Yuuri!"

Yuuri startles backwards, and Victor's arms slip down away from him.

"Phichit," he says in relief.

There's something in seeing Phichit's easy affectionate grin as he comes up to him that settles him. And maybe Phichit's exuberance can distract Victor from how stupid Yuuri is being.

Phichit gives Yuuri a big hug. He's so much smaller than Victor, whose embraces he's gotten achingly used to these past few days. But yet somehow his thin arms manage to push Yuuri away from the edge he feels like he's been straddling all morning.

He takes his first deep breath of the day.

"Hi, Victor," Phichit says. He grabs Yuuri's arm in his and says, "So the day we've all been waiting for, right?"

"Right," Victor answers, but his eyes are on Yuuri.

Phichit starts walking, still holding Yuuri by the arm. Yuuri glances back and sees Victor run a hand through his hair and visibly take a deep breath before following them.

"So, looks like you guys are getting along well," Phichit says, loudly enough that he clearly intends Victor to hear.

"Um, yeah," Yuuri says. He doesn't know what else to say.

Phichit raises his eyebrows meaningfully at him, so that it's a surprise when instead of saying anything else, he changes the subject.

"You'll never believe what Leo did the other day. He..."

 

"Usually it's the parents who are the anxious ones," Nathalie says, eyeing Yuuri across her neatly arranged desk. Yuuri bites his lip and he keeps pressure on the cotton ball at the crook of his arm, even though the bleeding has probably long stopped.

Victor scoots his chair closer to Yuuri. He has an arm wrapped around Yuuri's shoulder, and he squeezes him tighter. He says, "That's because I can tell he's pregnant. His smell--" He inhales deeply as if this somehow proves it. "He can't tell, but I know."

Nathalie eyes him. "I appreciate your optimism, Victor, but his smell won't change for you for a few more weeks. Only an omega's bondmate could smell any difference this early."

Yuuri feels his heart sink. He had actually, on some level, started to buy into Victor's assurances.

"Now, while we have a few more minutes, there is a matter I'd like to discuss with the two of you before we get distracted by the results of Yuuri's test."

"Sure," Victor says. He gives Yuuri's shoulder a squeeze.

"I've noticed that you two seem very... close," she says.

Yuuri glances at Victor, but he's looking straight at Nathalie.

"I usually only see this when the alpha helps the omega through their heat," Nathalie says. "It makes me concerned. If you recall, we talked about the dangers of getting too close--"

"But you told us to!" Yuuri blurts out.

Both Nathalie and Victor turn to him. He flushes but he's resolute, "You said the chances of conception are higher the closer we are. That's why you wanted us to be together these last five days."

Nathalie frowns at him. "Yuuri, I meant living together. Being exposed to the alpha's presence and scent. Physical proximity is not the same as intimacy."

"Oh," Yuuri says. So he had been taking advantage of Victor under false pretenses, after all. Even if he hadn't known it.

He looks at Victor's arm over his shoulder, at how close they are, and scoots his chair away.

Victor gives him an unreadable look, then turns back to Nathalie. He says, "But the closer we are can only help the baby, right? It can't hurt."

"Of course it can hurt," Nathalie says. She sighs impatiently. "As I explained at our first meeting with the two of you, it increases the chances of accidentally bonding. Pregnancy is inherently an intimate thing to share, especially between an alpha and omega. Having the client and surrogate live together during the pregnancy is a calculated risk, but especially in high risk pregnancies, and that includes all male omega pregnancies, we feel it is necessary for the health of the fetus. But that's why we have safeguards and policies in place. The first is education, which I thought we had done already--" Yuuri looks down, chastised. "--and second is that, fortunately, since the omega won't go into heat during the pregnancy, the bond won't be finalized. Therefore, if an accidental bond does form, we are able to break it. But, for the health of the baby, we can't do it until right after the birth."

Yuuri glances at Victor, whose jaw is tight. He must have forgotten about that risk. The thought of being unintentionally bonded for the next forty weeks to Yuuri just for a few hugs must be an unpleasant thought.

Yuuri thinks of Phichit, who's waiting for him in the waiting room for moral support, and the way he'd given him a meaningful look and said they were 'getting along well'.

"Do you see my concern now?" Nathalie asks. "I look at the two of you and I see a significant risk for these complications."

"Do you?" Victor says. His tone of voice is strange and he laughs an uncomfortable laugh.

Nathalie opens her mouth, but then there's a knock at the door and it opens to the nurse in the white coat who'd taken Yuuri's blood earlier.

"Gentlemen," she says. And then turns to Victor alone, holding out a hand as her lips curve up into a warm smile. "Mr Nikiforov, congratulations. You are going to be a father."

Yuuri stares at Victor shaking her hand.

Victor's baby is real.

She exists.

Yuuri is pregnant.

"Yuuri!" Victor turns to him, a wide smile on his face. He hauls him up from his chair and gives him a big hug, pulling him close with the force of his enthusiasm. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes, Victor, congratulations!" Yuuri says. But he still steps back out of the hug.

Victor's expression turns to one of confusion. Yuuri can understand why, with how clingy Yuuri's been these past few days.

But Yuuri won't tie Victor down against his will. He will show his love for the baby by giving her, healthy and whole, to a father who is going to adore her. And he will show his love by letting Victor be there for her as soon as she's born. He won't let Victor's first days with his baby be in pain because he had to break an unwanted bond.

"Congratulations, Victor," Yuuri says. He smiles genuinely at him even as it hurts, deep in his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support for this fic. Wow. Can't tell you how much your kudos and comments mean to me! And thank you also for waiting a whole month for this chapter. It's LONG. I thought about splitting it into two, but it tells the arc I wanted. So, here it is, intact and whole and hopefully not setting a new precedent for this fic's chapter length...

"This is everything?" Victor asks.

Yuuri bristles. He gets it. He can see his room through Victor's eyes, the ragged green carpet with a hole in the corner, the stains on the ceiling, the peeling wallpaper, the twin bed he's never even had a lover in, the desk he'd found on the sidewalk last year with splintered off corners and a drawer that doesn't close all the way.

It's bad enough that Victor is here in his and Phichit's crappy little apartment ("Rent in the city is expensive!" he'd protested as they'd walked in, before Victor had even said anything), but to have him judge him for his meagre possessions makes him defensive. Yuuri had told him it was just a few boxes, that it would easily fit in one trip in the borrowed car.

"Yes," Yuuri says. "I packed it before my heat."

He still feels his cheeks flush at saying 'my heat' openly, even if he knows it's ridiculous to be shy about the evidence of his omega biology in front of Victor at this point.

Victor's looking at him assessingly. Yuuri is starting to wonder if the problem is the opposite, that he thinks it's too much to fit in his apartment.

"If there isn't room, I don't even really need any of this," Yuuri continues hastily. "I have my laptop already and enough clothes--"

"Yuuri," Victor stops him with a wide smile. "Of course we're bringing everything! How can you move in without bringing your things? I am just impressed you had some optimism after all, to pack before you believed you'd be pregnant."

"Oh," Yuuri says. It was less optimism than boredom. There are a lot of hours in a day without a job, especially since he graduated from physical therapy a couple months ago. He's still having trouble believing he's actually pregnant, if he's honest.

And then he's suddenly accosted from behind.

"Yuuri! I can't believe you're leaving me!" Phichit whines over his shoulder as he hugs Yuuri tight. He must have just gotten back from his practice. Yuuri sees Victor's eyes flick over the two of them.

"I'm not, really," Yuuri protests, turning around when Phichit finally loosens his hold on him. "It's just temporary." He glances at Victor's blank expression, and then amends, "I mean, it's most of the year. But then I'll be back and I'll still be paying rent--"

"You're not paying rent," Phichit tells him, rolling his eyes.

"But--"

"I'm getting a new roommate," Phichit says.

"You are?" Yuuri asks, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Not to replace you," Phichit assures him. "Just to... replace you."

Yuuri stares at him.

"I'll kick them out after you have the baby," Phichit offers. "If you still want to live with me even when you're a rich baby daddy."

"Phichit, stop calling me that! And at least I'm paying the next month. Um, it'll just be a little late again," Yuuri says. He bites his lip. He'd slipped a check onto Phichit's desk, next to the hamsters, to pay him back for this month's rent. But his heat payment isn't enough to cover another month. As soon as he gets his first of the surrogacy monthly payments, however, he'll have more than enough to cover the rent.

"Do you not have enough money for rent here?" Victor asks, frowning at him.

"You know I don't," Yuuri says, embarrassed. "Why do you think I even signed up to be a surrogate?"

Victor expression goes carefully blank.

"No, no, it's not that I don't want to have this baby for you!" Yuuri protests quickly, waving his arms. "I do. I really do. But you know I didn't sign up at the agency because I had money."

Victor eyes him carefully, then turns to Phichit, who's been quiet during this exchange but watching intently.

"I'll pay Yuuri's rent," Victor tells him. "How much is it?"

"No," Yuuri protests as Phichit starts to say, "You don't need to--"

"Yuuri."

"No," Yuuri says again. "My checks come through the agency. I'm not taking your money."

Victor looks for a moment like he's going to reach a hand out to him, but he doesn't. Instead he says, "You are having our baby --" Yuuri opens his mouth, but he corrects himself on his own, "-- _the_ baby. If I could, I'd give you so much more than just money."

Yuuri isn't sure what he's talking about, but he's sure he doesn't want to know. Something expensive like a car, probably.

"I've already got an ad up," Phichit tells them after a beat of silence. "If I don't find someone by the November first, I'll let you and Victor fight over who pays rent. But I've had a few responses. And some very personal photos that would make Yuuri blush."

Victor laughs.

"What would I blush about?" Yuuri demands.

Neither of them answer. Instead, Victor turns to Yuuri and says, "Let's get your stuff downstairs."

"Wait! First, commemorative selfie," Phichit says. He tugs Yuuri close and holds up his phone. Phichit eyes the photo and then nods in approval and starts pushing a few buttons on his phone.

"Are you telling people you're pregnant yet?" Phichit asks.

"What? No, of course not. You know I just found out a few days ago, Phichit," Yuuri says.

But Phichit pouts. "But I've come up with the perfect instagram pregnancy tag for you."

"What is it?" Victor asks curiously.

"No!" Yuuri lungs for the phone, but Phichit darts away into the narrow hallway. "You're not tagging anything. No one's going to know."

"Fine," Phichit says. He taps a few things on his phone and then comes the familiar sound of a photo being posted. A frequent sound in this apartment.

Yuuri lets out a sigh of relief when Phichit pockets his phone.

But then he says, "You know, Yuuri, you won't be able to hide it forever--" he pokes Yuuri in his stomach and Yuuri yelps "-- And this isn't going to be your usual cute and squishy katsudon belly."

Yuuri groans, covering his face.

"Don't male omegas usually start to show early, too?" Phichit asks innocently.

 

 

"What do you think of this one?" Victor holds up his phone in front of Yuuri in the middle of breakfast a couple days later.

Yuuri stares at it. Victor has open an ad for an apartment. There are two pictures visible, a perspective of an opulent kitchen and large empty living room.

"It's nice?" Yuuri says. His eyes drag on the asking price in the corner as Victor takes it back. Yuuri takes another spoonful of his fruit and cottage cheese.

"We should check it out," Victor says.

"Um," Yuuri says. "But don't you already have a new apartment?"

"Oh!" Victor cringes at him. "Did I forget to tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"It fell through."

"But I thought it was already done. You'd already bought it."

"It was contingent on passing inspection," Victor says. "And it turns out it wasn't easy enough to remove the mold from the apartment, and they found mold in the whole building, so they're renovating the whole thing and I am back to no longer being a homeowner."

He must take Yuuri's silence as disappointment, or reprimand, because he continues, in a more self-conscious tone.

"I'm sorry, Yuuri," Victor says. "I told you it would only be temporary and now you're stuck here with me, without even a room of your own."

"It's fine," Yuuri says. He's not decided if it is or not. It would be nice to have his own room, his own space, and not feel like he was encroaching on Victor's. But, at the same time, his omega side preens at being surrounded by Victor's smell, sleeping in Victor's bed and living in Victor's room.

Victor frowns at him for a moment, as if he senses his conflicting thoughts. "But we'll find a place! Perhaps it was meant to happen this way," he says. "This time you can help choose."

He taps his on his phone screen, then hands it over to Yuuri.

"Here, look, these are some I saved, tell me what you think."

Yuuri takes it reluctantly. Victor's not making a lot of sense, but he supposes that he means that this way he has someone to help him. One thing he's noticed in just the couple weeks that they've lived together is that Victor doesn't seem to have many friends.

Perhaps he should have guessed that by his strange choice of references for Golden Conceptions. Yuuri remembers when he and Phichit were looking for apartments three years ago. He had been grateful that Phichit had been with his sharp eyes and charming the landlords.

But Yuuri doesn't have much to offer. He hadn't even known that you could actually own an apartment until he'd met Victor.

Phichit would be a better choice. Their apartment, while obviously run down and behind on maintenance, was a better deal than most would find for a two bedroom in the city on dancer's salaries. Of course, it's not his apartment anymore. When Phichit finds a new roommate will he take Yuuri off the lease? The thought fills him with an emptiness in his stomach. In nine months he might be homeless as well as unemployed.

"Yuuri?" Victor's voice cuts through his thoughts. "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing. Sorry."

"I was just saying, would you come with me this afternoon to look at this one? There's an open house at two."

Yuuri has nothing else to do and Victor seems to really want him there, so he says, "Yes, sure, I'll come."

"Wonderful!" Victor grins at him, clapping his hands together.

 

 

"You're pregnant," Minako repeats.

Yuuri nods and adjusts his position on the pole.

She drops down onto one of the metal folding chairs and says, "Fuck. I need a drink for this conversation."

Yuuri doesn't say anything. His muscles are starting to shake with the effort of holding himself in his current position, so he transitions to a new one. He hasn't done this in a while, and his core and thighs are feeling it. There's something relaxing in it, though, and he thinks he's probably the only one who would say that about pole dancing. But he likes practicing the positions, slowly moving from one to the other. The aesthetics of the poses. It reminds him of yoga or pilates, only with a pole. And not being able to confess to anyone but Phichit that he knows how to pole dance.

"I'm so sorry, Yuuri," Minako says. "I really wish I could have taken you on. If only business was better..."

Yuuri slides down the pole and lands on the floor to face her.

"It's not your fault," he says firmly. He knows Minako has to bartend most nights a week just to pay her own rent. One of his masters at Ballet du Nord had introduced her to him because her studio was close to his apartment so he could practice any time he wanted. Less because he needed the extra practice and more because dancing had been his outlet for stress relief as long as he could remember.

She shakes her head. "Seriously, what the hell."

Yuuri runs a hand through his hair and sits down in the squeaky metal chair next to her.

"You won't be able to do that much longer," Minako says, gesturing up to the pole.

Yet another thing Yuuri hadn't thought about that. He guesses his center of balance will be off. And will it hurt the baby to tense his abs too much, when the baby is there right under them?

Victor's 'When Your Omega's Expecting' book had encouraged exercise, and only cautioned about ligaments loosening and being careful not to overstretch. With how flexible Yuuri is to begin with, will that mean he should stop stretching at all? And his ACL is a ligament. Should he not dance at all while he's pregnant for the risk of tearing it again? He gets depressed when he doesn't exercise enough. Will he have to start running more? He really hopes not.

Maybe Victor could teach him how to skate? Though that probably wouldn't be good for his ACL, either.

"I didn't think you'd actually go through with it," Minako's saying.

"Well, I did," Yuuri says, unable to keep the defensiveness out of his voice. He's tired of being a failure in everyone's eyes. He hadn't been there for Vicchan and he'd died. He'd choked and fell during an easy routine, ruining a sold out performance and his knee. He's failed to find a job despite months and dozens of applications. The only thing he has going for himself is being fertile.

"You are always a surprise, Yuuri," she says, shaking her head. "How many weeks?"

"Five," he says. "Well, only three, really. But they count them weird."

"You get two free weeks then?" Minako says. "Out of forty? I wouldn't complain."

"Male omegas usually have c-sections early," Yuuri says with a shrug as he drops into a chair next to Minako. Between the shock of the announcement that he was actually pregnant and realizing he'd have to distance himself from Victor, he hadn't been able to pay that much attention to the short information session the OB nurse had given them. But he did learn a couple things. "We're supposed to meet my OB next week. Maybe I'll find out then when it'll be scheduled."

They sit in silence for a while.

"So," Minako says. "Is it going to be a virgin birth or did you let him knot you?"

"Minako!" Yuuri cries out.

 

 

Yuuri and Phichit both cringe together as they watch Yurio fall hard on his arm on the ice. He gets up and keeps skating, but it's only halfway through the program it's obviously thrown him off. He touches down two more times without fully getting back on track. He nailed a quad salchow early in the program -- which Yuuri knows because that's what the announcer said -- but it looks like that's the only advanced jump he's going to get full points on.

That's not even the worst part, though. The worst part is the way the cameras keep cutting to Victor, whose expression gets more and more blank with each of Yurio's falls.

"He's off the music," Phichit says, once Yurio is in his final pose.

"Yeah," Yuuri agrees. "Victor keeps telling him that, too, but I don't think he knows what to do about it."

He reaches for another carrot stick from the bowl on his lap. He's a nervous snacker. Phichit knows this, and so lovingly prepared a bowl of pregnancy-approved snacks before they sat down in Victor's apartment to watch the first day of Skate Canada on his widescreen TV.

Victor pays for the most expensive of extended cable packages there is, with all the international sports channels. Yuuri had texted Victor to ask permission for Phichit to come over and watch Skate Canada on CBC Sports with him. Victor had texted back, perhaps not surprisingly, an enthusiastic, _Of course!!_ and _You're going to watch it?_ and _I'll tell Yurio you're watching he'll be so happy!_ (which Yuuri secretly doubted) and _It's your apartment, too, Yuuri! You don't have to ask these things_.

Yuuri knows Victor's tried to make him feel at home here. And that Victor feels bad for not being able to give him the new place with his own room -- painted in Yuuri's favorite color -- that he'd promised him.

It's been a few weeks now and it still doesn't _feel_ like his apartment, though.

He's slept alone in Victor's bed ever since Nathalie had told them they needed more distance between them. He keeps his clothes in Victor's closet. The fridge is stocked only with foods Yuuri likes. And now there's a tea kettle and top of the line rice cooker and expensive wok in the kitchen. And Yuuri's favorite blanket is draped over the armchair in the living room, even though it's old and ratty and couldn't look more out of place with Victor's furniture. (He'd even caught Victor using it more than once at night sleeping on the couch on nights he must have been cold.)

"It's an odd choice of music for him, anyways, isn't it?" Phichit asks as the camera follows Yurio and Victor down to what's apparently called the 'Kiss and Cry'. Yuuri bets it's aptly named. Phichit hasn't met Yurio but Yuuri's told him enough.

"I think Victor wanted him to branch out and surprise people," Yuuri says. "But he's not embodying the music."

"No," Phichit says. He taps his fingers on his legs. "I bet you could help him with that."

"Me?" Yuuri asks. "But I don't know anything about skating."

"From what I hear Victor's more than competent enough to train him in that. It's the dancing he needs help with."

"Maybe," Yuuri says. He doubts Yurio would have any inclination to take his advice. He has plenty of people whose advice he ignores anyways. Victor's his coach this year, but Yakov's still the head coach and there's a dietician and a personal trainer and even a publicist.

Victor and Yurio are at the kiss and cry now and Victor's lecturing Yuuri about something.

Without questioning himself, Yuuri opens a message on his phone and types.

> Tell Yurio his quad salchow was beautiful and we are rooting for him!  
> We look forward to seeing him tomorrow in the free skate.

On the TV, Victor stops whatever he's telling Yuuri and pulls out his phone. Yuuri bites his lip, feeling bad. He hadn't meant to interrupt. He hadn't thought Victor would check his phone right away.

But he is. And as he reads what has to be Yuuri's message, his eyes widen just a fraction, and then the severe lines of his face soften, just a little, as he touches his fingers to the screen.

But then Victor snaps his head up as the announcer starts talking again, "And for Yuri Plisetsky's senior debut -- and Victor Nikiforov's debut as coach -- his short program score is 87.25. This puts him in second place with two skaters more to go."

"I hear the real points are in the free skate," Yuuri says, only half-heartedly optimistic.

"You've learned a lot about skating, Yuuri," Phichit says, as the camera pans to the next competitor entering the rink.

"I live with an Olympic figure skater, remember?"

"And you're having an Olympic figure skater's baby," Phichit adds.

Yuuri shrugs. He leans forward to dip a piece of celery in the low-fat ranch dressing Phichit had brought. "I've been to the rink a few times. I've picked up a little bit."

"So how are things between you and Victor, Yuuri?" he asks, and Yuuri knows he's been waiting all afternoon to ask. "That was his text he got just now, wasn't it?"

"Um, I think so," Yuuri says, feeling strangely shy about it.

Phichit just hums, a sound that seems to have more knowing meaning than the topic deserves.

"Look, we're not sleeping together!" Yuuri bursts out.

Phichit rounds on him, eyes widening.

"I didn't mean it like that," Yuuri backtracks hastily. "Just that we're not sleeping together."

"Yes, that's what you said," Phichit says cautiously. "Is that in question?"

"Of course not," Yuuri says. He looks up at the television. On the wide screen, they're finishing clearing the ice for the next skater. There's a large amount of cat paraphernalia they'd had to collect for Yurio. He wonders what happens to all of it. Yurio's room at Yakov's can't possibly be big enough for it all.

Yuuri turns back to Phichit and adds, "I mean, yes. But only the first few days, after my heat -- you know how clingy I got last time, and it was supposed to be good for conceiving -- we shared Victor's bed. But he sleeps on the couch now."

Phichit hums.

"The bed doesn't even smell like him anymore," Yuuri says, daring a quick glance at Phichit, who, instead of looking reassured, is now frowning at him.

"Is that a problem?"

Yuuri flushes and turns quickly back to the TV. The next skater, a 17-year-old from Slovakia, is taking the ice. Yuuri bites his lip before he accidentally confesses that as soon as he's alone in Victor's bedroom at night he rectifies the problem of the lack of Victor's scent by grabbing the shirt Victor was wearing that day from the top of the hamper and curling up around it.

He knows it's verging on creepy. Maybe beyond verging. But he's sleeping poorly enough as it is alone in Victor's giant bed. And when he's tried to refrain from indulging his omega instincts, he just lies in bed craving Victor's scent until he gives in and grabs his shirt anyways.

At least it's not hurting anyone. Victor will hopefully never, ever find out. As long as they're not so close anymore, there won't be an accidental bond and no one will get hurt. And Victor will be able to be there and not distracted by the pain of a forcibly broken bond for the first days with his new baby.

Phichit is a real friend. Because, instead of letting Yuuri continue to put his foot in his mouth, he mercifully changes the subject. "Oh! I almost forgot. I found a new roommate. He's moving in in a few days, so you can give up any ridiculous ideas of paying for this month's rent."

"Oh," Yuuri says. He'd actually already had the check written out and ready to give him. He'd gotten his payment as surrogate the other day, prorated for the few weeks in October that he'd actually been pregnant. "Who is it?"

"His name's Guang-Hong. He's a freshman at college and his dormmate left halfway through the semester," Phichit says. He pulls out his phone and shows Yuuri selfie on instagram of them together.

"Is he nice?" Yuuri asks. He hopes Phichit didn't just pick the first person who was willing to live in their crappy apartment.

"So nice. He's an adorable little cinnamon roll." Phichit shoots Yuuri a grin. "Apparently I have a roommate-type."

Yuuri tries -- and fails -- not to feel a little bit jealous.

 

Yuuri sits with Victor in the waiting room of Golden Conceptions. There are a couple others there. A man reading a magazine, two women sitting on the other side of the room chatting quietly.

He knows he shouldn't be so nervous. He's been healthy and feeling fine ever since their last visit when they announced he was pregnant.

But he can't help perseverating over the thought that they were wrong. Because he doesn't feel pregnant. He knows it's far too early to start showing, and he's months away from feeling the baby move. It's probably too early to even expect morning sickness, but, still, shouldn't he be feeling at least a little bit different?

He fiddles with his new maple leaf keychain as he tries to resist the urge to lean across the armrest into Victor's shoulder and to breathe in his calming alpha scent.

Until now, the Japanese stereotype always won out over the omega stereotype for him and physical intimacy has never been a natural instinct. But now his omega side knows what it felt like to be held in Victor's muscled arms. To smell his alpha -- No, no, no, _an_ alpha, not his, Victor isn't his -- up close.

He breathes in deeply through his nose as surreptitiously as possible, trying to catch as much of Victor's scent as he can from this distance. If anything, being here reminds him he can't risk an accidental bond. Taking comfort in Victor one more time would hardly hurt, but Yuuri's afraid if he gives in now, he'll keep giving in.

And he's not even sure that Victor would want to be that close to him, anyways, now that he doesn't have his heat pheromones still lingering on him, appealing to his alpha instincts.

"You're so anxious, Yuuri," Victor interrupts his thoughts. He has a teasing smile on his face, but his blue eyes are gentle. "What do you think is going to go wrong?"

Yuuri bites his lip and clenches the keychain in his hand. "Nothing. It's going to be fine."

"Hmm," Victor says. "Perhaps you need a distraction, then?"

Yuuri doesn't know what he's suggesting, his smile is more a smirk. He bristles at his teasing tone and opens his mouth to ask what he's talking about when he hears his name being called.

"Yuuri Katsuki?"

Yuuri glances up at the tall man in scrubs striding towards him.

"Yes, that's me," Yuuri says, just as Victor calls out, "Right here!"

"Nice to meet you, Yuuri!"

Yuuri stands up and bows his head respectfully as Emil shakes his hand. The man smells like a beta. He's tall with floppy hair and scruff over his chin and a big friendly smile on his lips.

"I'm Emil. I'll be your nurse," the man says. "You ready to come on back?"

"Both of us, or...?" Yuuri glances at Victor.

"Up to you!" he says. "Some of our surrogates like a little privacy."

"Um, just me. If that's okay?" Yuuri doesn't know what they're going to do, or find, on his exam and he'd rather Victor not be there to see his weaknesses.

"Go on Yuuri," Victor says. He makes an aborted gesture, as if he was going to pat Yuuri's back or shoulder. Yuuri finds himself wishing that he had.

 

Emil takes him back to an exam room. He checks Yuuri's blood pressure and listens to his heart and lungs and draws his blood, chatting all the while about the JJ concert he'd gotten free tickets too last weekend, and the tricks for parking around the stadium and other things Yuuri is only half paying attention to. He's just glad that Emil's talking enough for both of them and he doesn't have to hold up his end of the conversation.

Of course, that's when Emil puts aside the tubes of blood, sits on a stool in front of him and turns serious.

"So how is it going for you, Yuuri?" he asks.

"Fine," Yuuri says automatically. "Good."

"You know, it can be stressful for some of our surrogates, upending their lives and living with a stranger. I hear you are in quite close quarters, too, right now."

"Oh, no, that's fine," Yuuri says quickly. Even if the truth is that it is stressing him out being so close to Victor every day and yet not close enough.

Emil cocks his head, spinning back and forth on his stool. "What is it you're worried about, then?"

"The baby's okay, right?" Yuuri blurts out. "I mean. I don't feel pregnant. I don't feel any different at all."

Emil gives him a grin. "I'm sure the baby's fine, but we'll know more when we run your blood tests and Dr. Odagaki does your ultrasound. But you're very healthy, you know. Your vitals are right what they should be, your heart rate's up and your blood pressure's down from your exam when you signed up. Your body's starting to adjust, even if you don't realize it."

"Oh," Yuuri says. He feels a little bit reassured by that. That means the baby's there, the baby is making her presence known.

"So, I just have to run through a few questions about your activities and diet," Emil says. He scoots on his stool over to a computer and proceeds to ask Yuuri questions that he's relieved are a lot easier to answer.

When he's done, Emil says, "We're here to support you, you know. I know everything probably seems like it's about the father, but you're our real patient. If you need anything, tell us."

"Thank you," Yuuri says politely, bowing his head again. "I will wait and see what the tests show, then."

"Well, you won't have to wait long!" Emil says. He stands up and rolling the stool out of the way. He grabs the tubes of blood in one hand and holds the door open for Yuuri with his other. "I'll take you to Dr. Odagaki's exam room now and you'll get your ultrasound."

 

Victor joins him in the next room. Yuuri sits on the exam table and Victor takes the chair as they wait for the doctor.

"So, Yuuri, everything's fine, isn't it?" Victor asks with a confident grin.

Yuuri nods, but adds, "There's still the ultrasound, though. And the blood tests."

"Everything will be fine," Victor tells him confidently.

Yuuri looks down at the tiled floor and says, "I'm sorry I'm so anxious."

Victor shakes his head and sighs. "Oh, Yuuri. I wish you could smell your scent. You smell more pregnant every day. You're the most amazing thing I've ever scented. I --"

He's interrupted by a knock at the door. Yuuri's heart is still pounding at Victor's words -- even as he knows he's reading too much into them -- as woman in a white coat steps into the room.

She introduces herself as Kanako Odagaki, and Yuuri is a surprised that her scent is that of an omega. He's never seen an omega doctor before. She has Yuuri lie down on the exam table. He hadn't had to change into a gown, she has him lift his shirt up and unbutton his jeans to bare his abdomen for the ultrasound.

Victor comes up to stand next to him and Yuuri can feel his eyes on his bare skin. He resists the urge to pull his shirt back down. Victor routinely comes out of the shower with only a towel tied around his waist. So Yuuri knows, from the moments before he's remembered to avert his eyes, how much more defined every muscle of his torso is than Yuuri's ever been.

But, before he can spiral too far into self-consciousness, he startles at the sudden cold on his stomach.

"Oh, sorry, Yuuri. I should have warned you," Dr. Odagaki apologizes. She's putting a bottle away and Yuuri glances at the blue glob on his belly.

"It's okay," Yuuri says. He feels the anxiety from earlier coming back as she picks up the probe.

Victor's hand is resting on the table, only inches away from Yuuri's own. Yuuri feels his own hand twitch, but doesn't have the courage to reach out to him.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to show you very much today," Dr. Odagaki says as she presses the probe onto Yuuri's stomach. She twists it low on his abdomen and pushes a few buttons on the ultrasound machine that make it zoom in on the grainy black and white image.

Yuuri glances up at Victor. He has his chin in his hand as he and stares intently at the screen. Yuuri squints through his glasses but can't make out anything recognizable. Dr. Odagaki must see something, though, because draws a few lines with the controller on the screen, and makes approving sounds at the numbers that appear.

"Um, where's the baby? The baby is there, right?" Yuuri asks finally.

He feels both their eyes turn to him, and Dr. Odagaki laughs. It's not an unkind laugh but it makes him feel stupid anyways. It's probably obvious. How could Yuuri not even recognize a baby on the screen?

"It's right here, Yuuri." She turns the probe slightly, the lube cold and slick on his stomach, and then points at the monitor.

Yuuri stares at the two blobs, feeling his eyes widen as he stills.

"Are there -- are there two of them?"

"Oh, no, just one," she says. She points at the screen again. "This is the embryo, and this is the yolk sac. It provides nutrients to the embryo."

"Yuuri." Victor's voice takes on an awed tone. "Yuuri, that's our baby."

Yuuri, eyes glued to the screen, repeats without thinking, "That's our baby."

Dr. Odagaki is watching them with a gentle smile. "Everything looks good. All the measurements are appropriate for dates. Congratulations."

 

After Yuuri cleans off the blue gel from his stomach, they join Dr. Odagaki in her office. Yuuri has barely been able to take his eyes off the print-out of the ultrasound she'd given him. He'd almost ran into the doorframe on their way there.

Her desk is cluttered with folders and piles of paper and a laptop between them. As they step inside, Yuuri can see his name at the top of the screen, and underneath that a grid of numbers.

He sits down next to Victor in a comfortable armchair across the desk from his doctor. He starts to feel anxious again at the reminder that he still doesn't know his lab results. But then he looks down at the picture in his hands again. He presses a hand over his stomach. The baby is there, inside of him. Real and alive.

He glances at Victor, who's looking at him with a soft expression on his face. Yuuri looks away. He can't handle the way his chest tightens to see Victor looking at him like that.

"So," Dr. Odagaki starts, clasping her hands on the desk. "You are six weeks along and I'm happy with how everything is looking."

"Oh, good," Yuuri says. "The labs are okay, too, then?"

"Everything is within normal limits," she says. "But--"

"But?" Victor interrupts.

"We do test a hormone, called Omega Specific Stress Hormone," she says. "It's at the high end of the normal range."

Yuuri feels his whole body still at that.

"What is that?" Victor is asking, worry in his voice. "Is Yuuri not okay?"

"It's actually not well named," she says. "It's called Omega Specific Stress Hormone because it's only found in omega pregnancies, though we don't know why. But it's actually produced by the offspring and gives us an idea of the stresses on the embryo -- and later the fetus -- itself."

Yuuri knows what that means: that all of Yuuri's weaknesses are hurting the baby. Everything he worries about, not finding a job, trying to keep from getting too close to Victor, worrying about the baby herself.

Yuuri looks at Victor and guilt builds in the pit of his stomach.

"I'll worry less, I promise," he declares. "I'll try to be less anxious. I'll do my best, Victor."

"Yuuri," Victor starts. "It's not your fault --"

"And it's not that kind of stress, anyways," Dr. Odagaki cuts him off.

"Then what kind is it?" Yuuri asks doubtfully.

"It has to do with the dynamics of the parents, in your case the alpha and omega dynamics," she says. "In cases where there is a bond between the parents, it can be heavily influenced by the health of that bond. We think it has to do with the offspring feeling secure and provided for, though that's just a theory. And obviously we're anthropomorphizing an embryo by saying that."

"Oh," Yuuri says, biting his lip. It's still his fault then. Because he's been craving Victor's presence, indulging in the minimal comfort of his shirts at night. The emptiness he still feels at holding himself apart. Should he be indulging in being close to him after all, even if it risks an accidental bonding? Would Victor even want that?

But then it's Victor tell him, "It's all my fault."

Yuuri looks over at him in surprise. Why on earth would Victor even say that? Let alone sound so devastated. When it's obviously still Yuuri's fault. He opens his mouth to say that, but Dr. Odagaki speaks first.

"It's no one's fault," she says in a firmer tone than Yuuri's heard her use before. "It can be difficult between the parent and the surrogate since they aren't in any prior relationship."

"What do we do?" Yuuri asks.

"Spend time together," she says. "You two seems to get along well, is that accurate?"

"Of course!" Victor exclaims as Yuuri also says, "Yes, of course."

Dr. Odagaki's lips twitch in a wry smile. She says, "The Omega Specific Stress Hormone is within normal limits, like I said. We'll just keep an eye on it. And in the meantime I just encourage you to continue spending time together so the presence of Victor as the offspring's alpha is clear. And try not to be separated for too long."

Victor looks at Yuuri, smile on his face even though it still looks half-strained. He says, "That means you have to come with me to Russia. No more protesting."

Yurio is competing in one of the Grand Prix events in Moscow in two weeks and Victor has been trying to encourage Yuuri to come with them. But Yuuri has continued to protest that Victor doesn't need to pay for a ticket to Moscow for him just so he can get in the way.

But if it's for the baby...

"Can you even get a ticket so soon?" Yuuri asks.

"I already bought one for you." Victor winks at him. "And reserved a hotel room with two beds."

Yuuri stares at him for a long moment, then says, "Oh."

 

 

They're outside Golden Conceptions a little while later, after Dr. Odagaki had gone over the plan for the pregnancy, the frequency of visits, planning a date for Yuuri's c-section at 38 weeks.

They're walking side by side on the sidewalk, not half a block from Golden Conceptions, when Yuuri halts.

"Victor?" he says.

Victor stops and turns to him as a businessman on a cell phone brushes by them. "Yuuri?"

And Yuuri launches himself at him, throwing his arms tight around Victor's chest.

"I'm going to give you the best baby, Victor," he tells him, meeting his surprised blue eyes. "The baby's going to be healthy and strong and perfect. I promise."

Victor is stiff for a moment, and just as Yuuri is starting to come back to himself and realize what he's doing, Victor huffs a laugh and his arms come around him and hold Yuuri tightly against him.

"Oh, I know you will, Yurochka." Victor's arms feel warm even through Yuuri's pea coat. Yuuri selfishly takes the opportunity to take a deep breath, his cheek on Victor's shoulder, inhaling his scent up close like he's wanted to do for weeks. "I've never doubted."

And maybe it's his imagination, but he wonders if Victor is inhaling his scent, too.

 

 

"You smell."

Yuuri turns in the large, empty living room to look at Yurio in confusion. Yurio's waiting with him while Victor's gone back with the real estate agent to look at something in the kitchen again. Victor had dragged Yurio out of practice to come see this apartment, and Yuuri had met them there. For some reason Victor insists that Yuuri be there to see every place he looks at.

"What? I smell?" Yuuri asks. He'd showered after his run with Makkachin this morning.

"You smell like you're pregnant," Yurio elaborates, crossing his arms, skate bag banging against his side.

"Oh, that," Yuuri says, trying for nonchalant even as he feels his cheeks flush. "But you already knew that."

He really shouldn't be surprised that Yurio would be the one to actually say something.

Starting a few days after their six week doctor's visit, Yuuri had noticed a couple people taking double-takes when they passed him waking on the street. Even Victor's doorman had given him a wide-eyed expression before smoothing his expression back into disinterested professionalism.

He hadn't realized what it meant until he'd ordered a green tea at the cafe yesterday and the barista had automatically grabbed the decaf tea bag before Yuuri had had a chance to tell her to. He'd thought he'd have more time before the smell was obvious to anyone but Victor -- who, for some reason, still claims he could smell him far sooner than he should have been able to -- but apparently not.

At least most people have been polite enough to follow the unspoken rule not to mention anything until he starts showing. Yuuri's not looking forward to when that happens.

He remembers the there was a pregnant male omega back when he was a kid in Japan, and how he and his classmates had stared at him walking down the street. He remembers how people had gossiped about him behind closed doors. It's not that rare, but there are fewer male omegas compared to the female omegas (let alone female alphas and betas, for that matter) and with the difficulty in getting pregnant and the high risks of earlier miscarriage -- not to mention the high maintenance pregnancies, requiring frequent contact with the alpha -- he was the only one Yuuri remembers from their small town in Japan.

Of course, Yuuri's seen many more pregnant male omegas since he moved to the city. But it's still not common. And so of course Yuuri is going to get attention.

Just one more thing about the surrogacy he hadn't considered before agreeing to it.

"People are going to start asking questions, you know," Yurio says as if it's an argument.

"Questions?" Yuuri repeats. "I'm just pregnant. What questions are there?"

It's at that moment that Victor comes back in with the real estate agent, the agent talking quickly, something about repairs, but Victor doesn't look like he's listening. Instead, his eyes go to Yuuri and Yuuri can't help the way his lips want to twitch into a smile for no reason, or the way his whole body feels warm just meeting Victor's blue eyes across the room.

Yurio huffs and Yuuri catches the side-eyed glare he levels at him. "What do you think's going to happen when people get a whiff of you? You're all over the old man's instagram already."

All over is an exaggeration. Yuuri knows that Victor's posted a few selfies of them on his instagram, because he'd needed Yuuri's help finding his own pitiful little account so he could tag him.

"No one's going to care about some nobody ex-dancer who's pregnant," Yuuri says. He does catch the real estate's widened eyes at that, and, oh, he guesses it's himself now that's broken the taboo against talking about it. He sighs and tells Yurio, "It'll be fine."

 

 

 

On the plane to Moscow, Yurio is fidgety and ornery, Victor keeps grumbling about having to sit in coach with the rest of Yakov's team, and Yuuri keeps adjusting the fit of his mask and wishing strangers on the plane would stop staring at him. He'd scrubbed himself three times this morning with what was supposed to be a scent-neutralizing soap, but he's pretty sure all that he got from it is itchy dry skin and his pregnant omega scent stinking up the plane anyway.

Mila and Anya are sitting behind them and gossiping loudly. He's been trying to avoid Anya ever since Mila pointed out one afternoon that she was attempting to flirt with him. Not only did the thought make Yuuri uncomfortable but he had the vague impression that she was related to Georgi's part-disturbing part-despairing programs this year.

Yakov is in the row across from them, downing more vodka than even Victor. The other two seats of his row are empty and Yuuri wouldn't be surprised if that was not accidental.

And Georgi is in the row in front of Yakov with two strangers, in the aisle seat like Yuuri. Yuuri has the thought that if he himself wasn't stinking up the cabin with the scent of pregnant omega that the smell of Georgi's despair would be infecting the whole plane.

He's actually not entirely sure why Georgi is here, since he's not even competing this weekend.

"Don't sit like that. You'll cramp up," he hears Victor lecture Yurio as he swats at his knees. Yuuri glances over to see Yurio sitting with his feet up on his seat, torso twisted around to lean against the side of the plane.

"If I'd had the seat I was assigned to, then maybe I could stretch out my legs," Yurio complains, even as he sullenly drops his feet back to the floor.

Victor had bullied Yurio into giving up his seat. As they'd stood in the narrow aisle, Victor, as the tallest, stowing their suitcases overhead, he had declared, "Yuuri is the one who has to get up and pee every fifteen minutes. He gets the aisle seat."

Yuuri had flushed and tried to hide his face in his hands as he heard Mila giggle. Victor, naturally, couldn't have said that where all of Yakov's skaters -- and the whole rest of the plane -- weren't around to hear it.

"Aw, don't be embarrassed, Yuuri!" Victor had said. "It's cute."

"It is not cute," Yuuri had mumbled into his hands. "And it's not every fifteen minutes."

Yurio had actually given in with surprisingly minimal protest. By his standards, at least. He'd probably realized that he was the one who'd have to move or get up every time Yuuri had to take a trip to the lavatory.

Which was not, for the record, every fifteen minutes.

 

 

Yuuri's waiting with their luggage in the hotel lobby while Victor gets their room key from the desk when he hears, "You must be Victor's Yuuri."

Yuuri makes an eep sound as he jerks around to see that two women have approached him. The first one -- the one who spoke -- has long blond hair and mascara-rimmed blue eyes, the other has short brown hair and a 'Russia' warmup jacket. They must be skaters with a different Russian coach. Neither look particularly friendly.

"So you are the one who's trying to steal Victor from the world," says the blonde woman in a heavy accent.

"Uh, what?" Yuuri asks. He tightens his grip on the handle of his suitcase as she takes a step closer.

The woman opens her mouth as if she's going to answer, but instead stops, and glances wide-eyed at the other woman.

The brown haired woman's lips curve up into a smirk and she says, "Ah, so that's it."

"What?" Yuuri asks again, hearing his own voice pitch a little higher. He glances over at where Victor is leaning across the front desk, big charming smile on his face as the receptionist takes a selfie with him. He doesn't know where Yurio ran off to, but he really wishes he were here right now.

"Why you don't smell like him?" the brown-haired skater asks.

The blond woman purses her lips. "It must have been a trick."

Yuuri stares between them, mouth halfway open, unable to process what they're implying fast enough to think of an appropriate response. Did they smell he was pregnant? But why did they come up to him in the first place? They must have seen him walking into the lobby with Victor, it's the only explanation. And now they're implying that Yuuri... what? Tricked Victor into having a baby with him?

He's saved from replying, though, when he hears a cheery "I got the keys, Yuuri, let's go find our room!" from behind him.

Yuuri turns to him. Victor's blue eyes sparkle in the golden lobby lights. Victor grins and squeezes his shoulder and Yuuri immediately feels calmer, between his touch and the whiff of his scent in the crowd. Ever since Yuuri had initiated that spontaneous hug outside Golden Conceptions, Victor's started with small touches again. It's nothing like those first few days after Yuuri's heat, but it's nice.

"Privet, Victor," the blond woman interrupts, her voice huskier, eyes darker than when she'd been speaking to Yuuri.

"Oh, hello!" Victor says. Yuuri can tell from the smile Victor flashes them both that he doesn't know them. He says something else in Russian. Yuuri can only understand the word 'photo', but the offer is clear enough.

The brown-haired woman hands Yuuri her phone with a sly look Yuuri doesn't know how to interpret. As she does, Yuuri is peripherally aware of Victor slipping some bills into the hand of a bellhop who's loading their suitcases onto a cart.

Victor turns back to the women, then. Yuuri, not knowing how to get out of it without making things unbearably awkward, takes photos of them each individually with Victor, then of the three of them together. Victor's charming smile doesn't slip once. Yuuri is half-expecting a cartoon gleam to come from his teeth.

After that they finally escape and Yuuri follows Victor into the elevator without saying anything. He swears he can feel more eyes on him from across the lobby than just those two Russian skaters.

Over the last couple weeks, he's slowly getting used to being the recipient of more and more looks when he's out in public. Even Phichit as a beta could smell him ("You smell so healthy and pregnant, Yuuri!" he'd exclaimed when he'd come over the day before they'd left for Russia).

But this is... different.

He'd figured the looks in the plane had been inevitable from the concentration of his scent.

But then even in the large Moscow airport he'd gotten narrow-eyed looks from people who'd passed by close to them. And again on the Aeroexpress. And then in their hotel lobby.

And those two female skaters. Yuuri can blame them for their rudeness. It still sinks unpleasantly in his stomach. But he can't blame them for their thoughts. It is impossible to believe that Victor would actually choose someone as plain and ordinary as him as a partner.

"... Yuuri?" he hears.

"Um, yes?" Yuuri asks. He suddenly realizes they're there at the threshold to their room and Victor is holding the door open for him.

"Are you all right?" Victor asks.

"I'm fine," Yuuri says quickly. He digs his hands into the pockets of his winter coat as he brushes past Victor into the room. It's not grandiose like Yuuri might have expected, just simple and clean: two beds, a brown carpet and their suitcases stacked neatly by the closet. Outside the window, flakes of snow drift past in the dim early afternoon light.

He hears Victor close the door and turns around.

"You seem unhappy." Victor tilts his head and taps a finger on his chin. "Have you gotten such a bad impression of my homeland already?"

"No, no, no. Nothing like that," Yuuri protests. Victor's shoulders, held tightly, seem to relax a little at that.

"Then what is it? I can't help you if you don't tell me," Victor says as he steps closer.

Yuuri crosses his arms over himself. "It's just -- it hasn't been so bad before. There was the plane -- but the smell was probably just concentrated. But then the airport, and the train and then here."

"Give me a few more words than that, Yurochka, you're not making sense," Victor says, corner of his lips quirking upward.

Yuuri sighs and tries to explain, "Everyone's staring. Haven't you noticed?"

"I guess I'm used to it. It's not a big deal," Victor says.

"You're used to it?"

Victor shrugs. "I've been famous for a while, you know."

"What? No, Victor, they're staring at me, not you," Yuuri says. "Or maybe me and you. But mostly me."

"Are you sure?" Victor asks.

"Yes!" Yuuri says.

Victor looks like he still wants to argue, but Yuuri drops down on one of the beds and leans forward, hands on his knees.

"If they were staring because they're your fans, they would be nicer looks, anyways," Yuuri mumbles.

There's a long moment of silence and then Victor says, "Ah. I didn't think about that."

Yuuri watches Victor pace across the room to the radiator under the window. Victor holds a hand above it, as if testing it for heat.

"About what?" Yuuri asks finally.

Victor turns around, smile in place but expression tight around his eyes. "Russia is rather conservative on these matters. You smell so pregnant these days."

Yuuri stares at him. "I didn't know they had a problem with male omegas being pregnant here."

Not every look he's gotten back home in the city has been friendly. There are ugly vocal groups of people who don't believe male omegas should have children. Yuuri's seen the bumper stickers. But he hadn't thought that Russia --

"No, that's not it at all," Victor says. He looks away, then back at Yuuri as he continues, "It's that they can smell you're unbonded, and you don't even have an alpha's scent on you. People here tend to be... conservative about omegas who are pregnant without alphas around."

"Oh," is all Yuuri can say. He rubs the bridge of his nose under his glasses. Of course. That's what the skaters were implying, after all. That he was a slut who tricked Victor into getting him pregnant. But that Victor, naturally, would never bond with an omega so plain and ordinary as him.

He just hadn't realized that that's what everyone's thinking, every time he passes someone.

He has a brief thought of grabbing one of those press crews set up in the lobby and announcing that he is Victor's surrogate. But it's far too early in the pregnancy to talk about it in public. Yuuri's not near showing yet. And would that even make the attention better? Or would it be worse?

So there's nothing he can do but walk around letting people assume he's so pathetic that he was rejected by the alpha who got him pregnant.

"Yuuri?" he hears Victor ask. His voice sounds worried.

Yuuri shakes his head and doesn't look at him. But he does say, in an even enough tone, "It's fine. There's nothing I can do about that, anyways."

 

Yuuri steps out of the bathroom after a long hot shower to find Victor sprawled, still in his suit, across the other bed, flipping through something on his phone.

At least he gets to sleep in a bed for these few nights, Yuuri thinks. He feels the usual pang of guilt thinking of Victor sleeping on the couch for so many weeks.

"Nice shower?" Victor asks languidly when he looks up at him. And Yuuri realizes he's been staring.

"Sorry, yes, very nice," Yuuri says. "Hot."

He catches Victor's eyes trailing down his chest and glances down to realize that the hotel bathrobe's belt has loosened, revealing a strip of his pale torso. He quickly tugs it closed.

Victor's raises his eyes back up to Yuuri, looking at him from under his white fringe.

"I have an idea," he says finally. He drops his phone and pushes himself up to sit on the bed. His gray suit is somehow not even travel-rumpled, and tugs flatteringly at his shoulders and arms as he moves.

"You do?" Yuuri asks. He adjusts his grip on the sides of his bathrobe.

Victor hums, and then stands up. "We'll talk about it when I get out of the shower."

 

Yuuri's propped up on the pillows of his bed, replying to Phichit's text, telling him he got in to Moscow and everything is fine, when Victor sits down on the side of his bed. He smells like clean soap over a hint of his usual sea-spice smell. Yuuri glances up at him. His hair is freshly blow-dried but he's still in his own hotel bathrobe and he doesn't seem to care that it slips down over his collarbone, revealing the side of his neck where Yuuri could fit perfectly, nuzzle in and --

"I have an idea," Victor says.

Yuuri jerks his eyes back up to meet Victor's, feeling himself flush. "Right. So you said. What is it?"

"I could scent you," Victor says. His expression is neutral, but there's something in it that makes it look like he's trying hard to keep it that way.

"Scent me?" Yuuri repeats. His voice goes a little high at the end. Is Victor really offering what he's been fantasizing about for weeks? And does he realize that? Is he offering out of pity, an attempt at consolation?

Victor leans forward, resting his weight on a hand on the bedspread next to Yuuri's thigh. "You would smell like me, like I was your alpha, Yuuri."

"Oh," Yuuri says. He feels his heart pick up speed. They could do it right now. He could smell like Victor's.

But...

"We can't," Yuuri says.

And Victor, who's been leaning in closer, pulls himself back up to sit straight and says, "Can't we?"

"You heard everything Nathalie said," Yuuri says. "We're risking an accidental bond if we do things like that."

Victor's looking around Yuuri's face as if studying him.

"So, it's not that I don't want to--" Yuuri says, twisting his phone between his hands. "I mean. Not that it wouldn't be a good solution. It is very kind of you to offer. But, we can't get that close, Victor."

Victor nods slowly. "You've been worried about this."

"Of course!" Yuuri says. "Nathalie said there was a high risk--"

"What if she's wrong?" Victor asks.

"Victor, you signed the contract, too. You know they'd have to break the bond right after the birth," Yuuri says.

And Yuuri knows all to well what that entails. Mari had spent a heat with an omega girl in her class, unbeknownst to either of their families, and ended up with a bond. Somehow they'd managed not to complete it despite the fact that it happened during the omega girl's heat. They'd tried to keep it secret, but the omega girl's parents found out and weren't at all happy that an alpha girl they'd never met had snuck into their heat room.

"You don't need to worry about an accidental bond," Victor is saying somewhere over Yuuri's thoughts.

"Have you ever even seen a bond breaking?" Yuuri demands. Yuuri had been nine years old when he'd watched his sister strapped down to a chair, seen the pendant the bond-master had put over her neck and watched as a nurse injected something into her veins. As the bond-master recited words in a language Yuuri didn't know, Mari had screamed and writhed as the straps of the chair held her down.

She'd been disconsolate for days and it had been weeks before she'd been more or less back to herself.

"No, but--" Victor's starting to protest.

"I'm not going to let you go through a bond breaking just when your baby needs you most," Yuuri says firmly, wrapping a hand over his abdomen. He sees Victor follow the movement, then look back up at him.

"Yuuri, listen to me." Victor's expression is stern. "That's not going to happen. What Golden Conceptions doesn't know is that there's no risk of an accidental bond between the two of us."

Yuuri opens his mouth to protest, then stops. Victor has a serious expression on his face, one Yuuri has rarely seen before.

"You really think so."

"I know so. You can worry about other things, but you don't have to worry about that," Victor says. His voice is softer but still firm.

Yuuri glances down at his cracked poodle cell phone case. He doesn't know how Victor could be so sure, but a big part of him wants to believe. Wants to just say, yes, do it now, and fling himself at him. But instead he gathers a modicum of common sense and says, "I'll think about it."

Victor gives him a small nod before he stands up and heads over to his suitcase to get dressed.

 

 

They eat Yurio's grandfather's pirojkis for dinner.

Victor praises them loudly. Yuuri praises them not as loud but just as sincerely. Victor keeps having to slap Yurio's hand away when he tries to steal more than one.

"You can't fill up on pirojki right before a competition," Victor tells him.

"You sound just like Yakov," Yurio grumbles.

There's a considering pause and then Victor says, "I will take that as a compliment, Yurio." And bites into another pirojki of his own.

Yuuri finds himself actually glad he's not in the middle of a performance season like Yurio is and can also take another without any guilt.

Yurio's grandfather speaks halting, gruff English until he gives up and lets Yurio translate for him.

"Dedushka's saying -- oh, to hell with it, can I just tell him you're Victor's surrogate so he stops trying to sympathize with the poor abandoned omega he thinks you are?"

Yuuri stills, feeling his eyes widen as he drops his uneaten pirojki down on the plate. He catches Victor glancing at him.

"You can say that," Yuuri says. He looks to Victor for agreement and Victor nods. "But just to him."

Yurio mutters something about this going to be a long weekend, but then starts explaining to his grandfather in Russian. At least by the end of the night, Yurio's grandfather is looking at Yuuri more in confusion than what he now realizes was pity from earlier.

 

 

Yuuri's bed is empty. Or, at least, it feels empty without anything of Victor's. He can hardly steal one of Victor's shirts while they're sleeping in the same room.

Despite exhaustion from travel, Yuuri can't sleep like this. He's too restless. Sometimes he hates his omega side and Victor is right there and --

He blurts out into the darkness: "You wouldn't mind?"

"Mind what?" comes Victor's voice from the bed several feet away.

It takes Yuuri a second to realize that he was the one who asked the question. Now that it's out there already, he says, "You wouldn't mind that if we did what you suggested, that people would scent you on me."

"That is the point, you know," Victor says, humor in his voice.

"Yes, but, maybe you might meet someone here who you wanted to be with..." Yuuri trails off.

"I won't," Victor says firmly.

"Are you sure? Because people are going to think we're together and that I'm having your baby," Yuuri says. Then frowns into the darkness. "Which I am, obviously, but --"

"Yuuri," Victor says. His voice is warm in the darkness. "People already know you are special to me."

"What?" Yuuri says.

"Phichit wasn't joking when he said you never checked social media, was he? What do you even do on your phone, Yurochka?"

"I text you," Yuuri says defensively. Because since he's met Victor -- and even though they live together -- that takes up probably the bulk of the time he spends on his phone. "And there's this game with pirates--"

Victor laughs and -- oh. It's a nice laugh. A really nice laugh. A real laugh. Yuuri wishes the lights were on and he could see more of him than his blurry silhouette.

"The game isn't not as stupid as it sounds," Yuuri says, because he still feels the need to defend his latest favorite app.

"Right," Victor says, mirth still in his voice, and Yuuri likes the way that sounds. Likes it a lot.

Yuuri can hear Victor's bed creak as he turns over in the bed to face him. Yuuri grabs his glasses from the nightstand so he can see Victor's eyes in the darkness.

"Would it be so different to let people think I'm your alpha?" Victor asks, his voice turning serious. "I'm already there for you, aren't I, Yuuri? I can provide for you. And care for you."

Yuuri lies there in stunned silence. Because it's almost like Victor is saying, like he's asking --

But then he realizes, no, Victor is just making a point. He's _paying_  Yuuri to be his omega, for all intents and purposes, for nine months and give him a baby. And he's obligated to take on the traditional role of Yuuri's alpha, providing housing and money and... It's a transaction.

Thinking about that makes it suddenly hard to breathe. Yuuri realizes that that's why Victor is so confident they won't form an accidental bond. He's the one Victor chose, for whatever reason, to pass on his genetics to his child. Not someone he chose because he was interested in a mate-bond with him.

If he'd wanted that, Victor would have just asked him out. He's hardly shy.

"Yuuri?" he hears.

There wouldn't be any harm in scenting, then, right? Yuuri could indulge in an alpha's scent, no matter what Victor's motives are. And it might be good for the baby, what with the high stress hormone level.

He can't help the nagging feeling that Phichit would have something to say, something to warn him about, and his chest still feels a little too tight, but he can't think of anything else that would go wrong.

So he asks:

"Will you scent me, Victor?"

 

Yuuri hears the creak of Victor's bed again, and watches through his glasses as Victor approaches in the snow-lit night. He leans over, putting his knee on the mattress next to Yuuri's hip. The smell of him, sea-spice-alpha, getting closer.

Victor's leaning half over him, Yuuri's so taken by his smell that he can barely hear his soft words: "Anything, Yuuri, anything you want."

Yuuri can't take it. He grips Victor's shirt and pulls him in, saying, frustration from the weeks of holding himself distant in his own voice, "Then come _closer_ , Victor."

The air of Victor's chuckle over Yuuri's neck makes him shiver, and then Victor repeats, "Anything you want."

And then finally, finally scents him.

He starts slow, just lightly brushing his cheek against Yuuri's neck. Yuuri's breath hitches. Then Victor rearranges himself, an elbow propped on other side of Yuuri's head, part of the weight of his body pressed over Yuuri's side, his hand resting on the side of Yuuri's hip.

"Smell so good, Yurochka. So good," he's saying, lips brushing against Yuuri's neck with the words and Yuuri, for some embarrassing reason, has to restrain himself from bucking his hips forward.

"Victor," he breathes out.

"You're so beautiful," Victor's whispering into his neck. "So perfect."

Yuuri's remembering his heat, Victor's call, his voice through the speakerphone, how he'd kept lavishing praises on him, and how amazing that had felt --

He feels Victor's thumb start to rub circles into the skin above his hipbone. And then he's rubbing his palm over Yuuri's neck. And he's still talking, breath ghosting over the other side of Yuuri's neck, making him shiver as he says: "I've been waiting -- I thought you -- oh, Yuuri, if I'd known all you were worried about was an accidental bond, I could have told you not to."

Right. That's right.

That's what it finally takes to bring Yuuri out of the moment, and he tries not to completely tense up as he feels his cheeks flush from his own foolishness. He'd let himself get caught up in this so quickly. He can't believe he forgot how confident Victor is that he would never bond with someone like Yuuri.

Yuuri only smells good to him because he's carrying Victor's baby. Victor's only even doing this because he's _nice_. Because he's willing to fake the scent of a relationship in front of the international skating community just to make Yuuri feel more comfortable in Moscow.

It takes him a moment to realize that's Victor's pulled back, and is looking down at him now. Yuuri meets his light eyes in the dim light and then quickly glances away.

"You're thinking too much," Victor tells him. He reaches down and delicately plucks Yuuri's glasses off his face and reaches around to set them on the side table.

"I'm not thinking," Yuuri denies automatically.

Victor cocks his head for a moment, then says, "All right. But you are forgetting something, though."

"What?" he asks nervously. He hopes Victor isn't going to take it upon himself to remind Yuuri of everything Yuuri had just remembered. Hopes that he's not going to bring up that he'd probably been able to smell Yuuri's burgeoning arousal when he first started scenting him.

But instead, Victor's saying, "You need to scent me, too, you know."

"Oh. I didn't know." Yuuri had thought scenting was just a way for alphas to publicly claim their omegas, not the other way around. But then he's never been in a position to be claimed, or to claim. So Victor would know better.

Victor lets out a gentle laugh as he manages to rearrange them so that they're in the middle of the bed facing each other. He strokes his hand over Yuuri's jaw and Yuuri can't help but push into his touch. Despite everything, he still wants this. Still wants Victor's scent on him, even if it's not real.

Then Victor takes Yuuri's hand, where Yuuri hadn't realized he'd clenched it at his side. Yuuri forces himself to relax as Victor places it on his own neck. Victor's neck is long, elegant, the skin soft. With the tips of his fingers, Yuuri traces the curve of his adam's apple, then the angle of his neck muscles down to notch between his collarbones.

"Yuuri," Victor says, the name coming out like a whine. Impatient, Yuuri thinks, of course he's impatient. He's probably tired after the long day traveling and ready to get this over with so he can sleep. And Yurio, Yuuri remembers guiltily, has an early practice slot tomorrow.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," Yuuri mutters. He rubs his palm along the side of Victor's neck and Victor tilts his head, baring it willingly to him. Yuuri swallows. He wonders if he should tell him he's never done this before.

But as Yuuri leans in, Victor's sea-spice-alpha scent gets more intoxicating. He forgets he doesn't know what he's doing and leans in, breathing in deeply, greedily, the tip of his nose brushing against the side of Victor's neck.

Victor makes a sound and it seems like approval or encouragement and Yuuri no longer cares if this is real. Victor's scent is real, and Yuuri's needed it, his omega's needed it, the baby's needed it, for so long.

He shifts closer and buries his face in the crook of Victor's neck. He catches the hitch in Victor's breath, and the way his arms tighten around his waist, pulling him closer. This is heaven and all Yuuri wants is to stay here like this.

"I know, Yurochka, I know," Victor says, as if he had heard him. But Yuuri's so intoxicated by Victor's scent, by Victor himself, he can't even bring himself worry about whether he let that thought slip out aloud.

He feels Victor's hand lift from his waist to comb through his hair as he gently presses Yuuri's head closer into him. Yuuri murmurs his contentment into Victor's neck, words he isn't entirely sure are English, but he's starting to feel drowsy, lazy, like he's finally able to relax like he hasn't in weeks.

And then he finds himself trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn against Victor's neck.

Victor asks, "Tired, Yuuri?"

"M'sorry," Yuuri murmurs, unwilling to pull back to talk. Victor is still pushing his fingers soothingly through his hair. "I haven't been sleeping well."

"Oh, Yuuri," Victor says, and Yuuri wonders if he's imagining something like sadness or regret in his voice.

"'M gonna fall asleep," Yuuri says.

"Yes," Victor tells him. He rubs Yuuri's back gently with his other hand.

"S'okay?" Yuuri asks, even as he nestles his head more comfortably into Victor's shoulder, still breathing in his scent with every slowing breath.

"It's okay," Victor promises quietly. He's still stroking his fingers over Yuuri's scalp soothingly. "Just sleep. I'll take care of you."

 

 

Yuuri wakes the next morning alone in the hotel room, snowy white sunlight streaming through the windows. It takes him a moment to remember why he would have expected not to wake up alone. And another moment to remember how he'd humiliated himself the night before. Victor had been doing him a favor, scent-marking him to keep the judgmental looks away. And Yuuri had taken advantage with his own neediness, and then fallen asleep on him, as if he expected Victor to stay in his bed with him.

He grabs for the covers and yanks them up over his head. He could stay like this today, hidden in bed. It currently seems like the best of all possible solutions. Except -- what's that annoying beeping sound?

He resignedly pulls the covers back down and reaches for his glasses. They're haphazardly folded -- Victor's doing, he supposes -- on his nightstand. And then he fumbles for the beeping sound.

Victor > Good morning sleeping beauty :) :) :)  
Victor > Practice time just ended, come get lunch with us!

Yuuri takes a deep breath. At least Victor doesn't sound like he's going to let things be weird between them now.

There's another message. A dire warning from his cell carrier about roaming charges. Yuuri groans. He hadn't even thought about that. So he replies to Victor's message that he'll meet him down in the lobby in a few minutes, and then powers off his phone.

 

The lobby is luckily a lot less crowded than the night before. Victor is pacing back and forth, phone to his ear. Yuuri can't help but feel relieved that gives him a little more time before he has to face him. It takes Yuuri a moment to find Yurio, but he finally spots him slouched into a chair tapping on his phone, black hoodie and sunglasses shading his face.

"Hi Yurio. How did practice go?" Yuuri asks as he drops into the armchair next to him. Is that the pirate game Yurio's playing? It looks like he's on one of the more advanced levels. Maybe he'd be willing to add Yuuri to his team. For all the time Phichit spends on his phone, he's a terrible virtual ally.

"That's not my name," Yurio snaps. But then he turns to Yuuri and his light brow furrows over his sunglasses. "Keep calling me it, though."

"Are you trying to be in disguise?" Yuuri asks. "Why?"

"The ice tiger of Russia has dedicated fans," Yurio says darkly.

"... the ice tiger of --?"

But Yurio interrupts, "Why does Victor smell like he's been bathing in eau de Katsuki but you smell like you've barely met him?"

"What?" Yuuri asks. How could he possibly not smell like Victor after that scent-marking last night? And then he realizes, and curses himself, saying, "I showered."

Yurio wrinkles his nose. "Does that mean the old man didn't? Gross."

"No, I mean, I used the scent neutralizing soap I brought for the plane. So I wouldn't smell, uh --" he glances around them, but no one's close enough to be listening in, "-- pregnant."

He would bet a large number of rubles that Yurio is rolling his eyes behind his glasses right now.

"Yeah, that's obviously not working."

"I'm aware," Yuuri says. All too aware. And now Victor's scent marking is gone and Yuuri's back where he was when they checked into the hotel yesterday. He'll be fending off disapproving looks yet again. Maybe Yuuri can just sneak back up to the hotel room and hide under the covers like his original plan for the day.

"At least you've both finally gotten your shit together," Yurio mutters as he turns back to his phone. "About time."

"Wait--what?" Yuuri asks, then realizes what he's implying and waves his hands in front of himself frantic to correct his misunderstanding. "No, no, no, it's not like that at all."

He sees Yurio raise an eyebrow but he doesn't look up from his phone.

"He's doing me a favor," Yuuri starts to explain, but it's at that moment that Victor swoops over to them with a big smile at Yuuri.

"Yuuri! You're here," Victor says. "We're going to introduce you to real Russian borscht!"

Yuuri can't help an answering smile in relief that apparently Victor isn't going to treat him any differently.

He stands up, ready to go, but when Victor gets close, however, his nostrils flare and his brows crease into a deep frown. Yuuri realizes he's getting a whiff of Yuuri. Rather, a whiff of the fact that his scent is no longer on Yuuri.

"You don't--"

"I know," Yuuri interrupts quickly. "I used the wrong soap. I didn't realize, I'm sorry."

"You didn't change your mind?" Victor asks, tone strangely cautious.

Yuuri shakes his head. He can't let Victor think he's ungrateful for his effort to help him. "It was a mistake, I'm sorry." And, because he seems like the time for apologies he adds, "And I'm sorry for the rest of last night, too. I hadn't meant to, um --"

"Ah, Yurochka," Victor says, cutting him off. He tugs Yuuri to him, so that he's pressed against Yuuri's back. Yuuri's taken yet again by the intoxicating sea-spice-alpha scent of him. He feels Victor unravel his scarf enough to loosen it, and then he feels Victor's cheek pressed into his neck, as if he's going to scent mark him now. Right here. In public. In Russia. Where -- well, Yuuri doesn't know if it's acceptable to do that in Russia, but from the wide-eyed look the receptionist is giving him, he guesses not. Victor doesn't seem to notice though. Just asks, "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," Yuuri admits. "Better than in a while."

"Good," Victor murmurs. He rubs the palm of his hand over the other side of his neck, like he had last night. So apparently he is planning on scent marking him here in public. Yuuri should really protest. But he can't bring himself to.

"There, that should work for now at least," Victor says when he pulls back. He steps away and looks at Yuuri as if there's some kind of visible handiwork for him to admire. "Yurio? How does Yuuri smell?"

Yurio groans and stands up reluctantly, stepping towards Yuuri. He wrinkles his nose. "He smells like you. And like he's knocked up. Presumably with your baby."

Victor nods, looking approving, but then Yurio adds, "He still smells like an unbonded omega, though."

Of course Yuuri does. He'd never considered the unfairness of it before, but only omegas give off their bonded or unbonded status in their scent. If he was a female alpha or beta surrogate, no one would be giving him looks in Moscow because they wouldn't be able to tell if he was bonded or not. He wishes right then that Victor could smell unbonded and pregnant, instead. It would only be fair.

But then he feels bad for the petty thought because he knows Victor, and knows he would take the scent for him if he could.

Victor gives him a consoling smile and says, tinge of regret in his voice, "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do about that."

"Yeah, he just smells like you knocked him up and haven't bonded him yet," Yurio says.

"Like we're waiting until the baby is born to properly bond," Victor says. Victor's blue eyes are intense on him. Yuuri averts his eyes.

"Uh, yeah, well, that should be enough to placate people here, right?" Yuuri asks.

"We'll just have to stay close," Victor announces as he steps forward and fixes Yuuri's scarf. "Give no one reason to doubt that you are taken."

And, as if to demonstrate, wraps an arm around Yuuri's shoulders, pressing Yuuri into his side.

Yuuri opens his mouth to tell him he doesn't need to. Getting some nasty looks isn't worth the trouble Victor seems prepared to go to. But instead he hears his own stomach growling.

"Yuuri, you're hungry!" Victor exclaims and Yuuri feels his cheeks flush. He opens his mouth to protest but Victor continues, lamenting, "I am a terrible alpha, you probably haven't even had breakfast and you're eating for two!"

"Um, it's fine," Yuuri says, even as Victor grabs his arm and starts dragging him to the hotel entrance.

"He's not eating for two," Yurio grumbles as he follows them out. "He's eating for one and a fetus the size of a berry."

Yuuri glances back at him. "A berry?"

"Well, you're eight weeks, right?" he asks defensively even as he pulls his hoodie further over his face as Victor pushes the hotel door open into the cold Moscow day.

"Right," Yuuri says slowly as his boots crunch into the salt on the ground. The snow from yesterday has been shoveled off the sidewalk. He's still taken aback that Yurio is apparently paying that much attention. "So, a berry?"

"Come on, this way," Victor says as he keeps tugging Yuuri along. He adds, "A raspberry right now. The baby was the size of a blueberry last week. Haven't you been keeping up with the calendar, Yuuri?"

There's a pregnancy calendar that Victor has up on the fridge, comparing the baby to new fruits every week. And, no, Yuuri has not been keeping up with it. In fact, he tries to avoid looking at it as he's more often than not grabbing fruits or vegetables from the fridge to eat. Whoever came up with that idea clearly didn't have to picture eating a tiny baby every time they ate a fruit.

And now blueberries and raspberries are going to be ruined for him now, just like pomegranates had been before them.

 

 

Yuuri grips the sleeves of his jacket, leaning forward in his seat with the Russian team in the stands as he watches as Yurio skate to the center of the ice. Victor cups his mouth in gloved hands to call one last thing out to him from behind the boards. Yurio takes his starting pose and Yuuri doesn't even need Mila to whisper into his ear to tell him that he needs to be on top of this one if he's going to make up for the fifth place his Agape short program earned him yesterday.

The fast-paced opening notes of Yurio's free skate music, a piece by a Russian classical composer, start playing. Before Yurio's spins or step sequences -- the parts, if Yuuri's honest, he finds more interesting -- he goes straight into one jump after another.

Yurio finishes the sequences of jumps with what Yuuri knows, only because he's watched Yurio practice enough times, a quad toeloop. And he must have nailed it because Mila lets out a whoop and claps next to him.

Maybe he nails the jump itself, but Yuuri can tell he doesn't nail the timing. He enters his step sequence half-beat too soon. Yuuri doesn't know if it's obvious to anyone who isn't a professional dancer. He hopes, for Yurio's sake, that it wasn't obvious to the judges.

Yuuri knows that Victor will be able to tell, though. He's only ever seen Victor demonstrate short bits of skating to Yurio in the rink, but the youtube videos of his programs, which Yuuri had absolutely never still watched late at night while pretending that Victor's shirt was enough scent of him, show he has a true dancer's instincts. If he'd gone into ballet instead of figure skating, he would have beaten Yuuri to every lead part he'd gotten.

And, sure enough, Victor's running a gloved hand through his white hair, a frustrated gesture that Yuuri rarely sees him make in public.

Yurio gets back on track by the end of a long spin and Yuuri relaxes back into his seat. Maybe it will be all right. The rest of it seems to have no glaring problems to Yuuri's eye. He's not embracing the music, but there are no more errors. At least, from a dancing perspective, which is all Yuuri really has. The technical score seems to matter more, anyways, as far as he can tell. And he knows that Yurio had dominated Juniors with his technical scores, not his performance scores.

At the end, Yuuri cranes around to watch where Victor's sitting with Yurio at the kiss and cry. Victor looks like he's in lecture mode -- Yuuri wonders if he knows how much he looks like Yakov at times like these -- and Yurio is clutching a stuffed kitten, jaw clenched.

When the scores are announced, neither of them look any more relaxed.

"Is the score not good?" Yuuri asks Mila quietly.

"It's not bad," Mila says. "The problem is there are four skaters more to go."

Right. Yuuri watches the next skater shed his Canadian jacket and then start his program to the opening strains of a JJ song. Yuuri remembers him from watching Skate Canada with Phichit. JJ Leroy had actually been in the crowd then, and stood up from the front row and flashed the crowd his trademark 'JJ Style' hand gesture.

Yuuri glances back at the kiss and cry, which is empty now. He wishes he could go back and join Victor and Yurio, but he knows he won't be able to see them until after the rest of the performances.

He pulls out his phone and briefly contemplates turning it on so he can text Victor. But he decides not to distract Victor by texting him -- he still feels bad about how he'd interrupted him at the kiss and cry at Skate Canada -- and puts his phone back in his pocket.

The Japanese skater's next, which Yuuri only knows because Mila pokes his shoulder, startling him from his thoughts, and admonishes him to root at least a little bit for his home country.

The next two are from South Korea and Italy. Once the Italian skater's scores are announced, the giant light-up board switches the names around, but Yurio stays in third place.

Yuuri exhales in relief just as Mila mutters, "I bet Victor's not happy about that."

Yuuri jerks his head over to her. "What? But he's getting bronze, right? I thought if he got bronze and the Korean skater didn't beat him that he'd go to the Grand Prix Final."

"Oh, yeah, he's going," Mila says. "But only by the -- how do you say it? His tooth skin?"

"The skin of his teeth," Anya, from her other side, corrects her with her precise, British inflection. She flashes a smile at Yuuri and Yuuri sinks back into his seat, trying to hide behind Mila.

 

It's the night after the exhibition skates and Victor drags Yuuri out of the banquet early, announcing that he's taking them sightseeing for their last night in Moscow.

Yuuri had questioned sight-seeing when it was already dark out and they were still dressed in their formal suits. But Victor had just shrugged him off.

Yuuri's suit is from when he used to have to go to formal galas during ballet seasons and it's his only tailored clothing he owns. He's worn it to a couple failed job interviews, and it's a bit more snug around the waist than it had been last time he wore it. He guesses that's from eating three real meals every day since he moved in with Victor.

It still fits well everywhere else, though. But Yuuri had still started to worry when Victor stared at him way too long in their hotel room when Yuuri had stepped out of the bathroom wearing it. But then Victor had seemed to snap out of it, and then told him it was perfect.

The taxi stops in front of a frozen fountain and they climb out. Yuuri glances around, then abruptly halts.

He stares across the square at the huge building he's only seen in pictures before. It's lit up in white against the Moscow night. Huge greek columns, ornate trim, giant iron horses above the entrance.

He feels Victor take his gloved hand in his. Victor's been taking his role as Yuuri's fake would-be mate seriously these past few days.

"This is the surprise?" Yuuri asks.

"Yes! Happy Birthday, Yuuri!" Victor squeezes his hand, grinning proudly at him. "Let's go inside."

"You have tickets?" Yuuri turns to stare at him in amazement.

"You think I brought you here just to stare at the outside of the theatre in the cold?" Victor asks. He complains with a whine, "You have no faith in me, Yuuri!"

"But the Bolshoi Theatre sells out almost a year in advance."

"Ah, but I have connections, remember?" Victor winks at him as he pulls out two tickets from his pocket and waves them in front of Yuuri.

And, yes, Yuuri remembers. He remembers the day he learned that Yakov's ex-wife was the prima ballerina -- and founder of Ballet du Nord -- Mme Baranovskaya. He'd started gushing embarrassingly all about how amazing she was and how she was one of his inspirations and then realized by Yakov's increasingly darkening expression that there had been an emphasize on the ex- in ex-wife. He'd squeaked out apologies and then been too afraid to be around Yakov for over a week.

Victor had thought it was hilarious.

He's forgiven for the reminder, though, when he tugs at Yuuri's hand and says, "Come on, let's go!"

 

 

As usual lately, Yuuri wakes up before Victor. When Yuuri starts to move away, Victor squeezes him tighter, and then his arms go limp and Yuuri slips out.

They shared a bed every night in Moscow. But, after the first night, Yuuri was very careful to extricate himself after Victor scent-marked him and go to sleep on the opposite side of the bed.

And, every morning, he woke up early to pee and found himself entangled with Victor. Sometimes Victor was spooning him, sometimes he was the one clinging to Victor.

The only good thing about having to wake up early to pee, is that he could remove himself before Victor woke up and realized the position their sleeping selves put them into.

Last night was their first night back in Victor's apartment. Yuuri had bit his lip as they faced each other awkwardly in their sleeping clothes, Victor's shirt pulling at his muscular shoulders and his sleeping pants hung low over his slim hips. It had seemed ridiculous to have Victor sleep on the couch again when they shared a bed in Moscow where there were two perfectly usable ones.

Yuuri had pointed that out, and Victor had grinned at him, likely relieved to no longer have to sleep on a too-short couch.

So Yuuri had reassured himself it was not just him selfishly not wanting to have do with Victor's t-shirts when he could have Victor and Victor's scent all night long.

This morning, he doesn't go back to bed like he usually did, carefully putting distance between himself and Victor when he returned. He's too antsy with the time change, so instead he grabs his phone from his bag and heads to the living room.

He frowns at the black screen, and realizes he hasn't turned it back on since that first morning in Moscow. When he does power it on, he cringes at all the notifications from Phichit.

Phichit > So how is Moscow?  
Phichit > It says it's snowing there. It's snowing here too! It'll feel just like home.  
...  
Phichit > Are you all right?  
Phichit > Yuuuuri  
Phichit > You have your phone off, don't you?  
...  
Phichit > At least I can see you're all right on TV  
Phichit > Why doesn't Victor look happy? They just said Yurio is going to make it to the finals  
...  
Phichit > omg, Yuuri, what is Victor doing?  
Phichit > you can't scent mark someone on live TV!  
...  
Phichit > wow, you guys made all the gossip blogs!!

 

Yuuri stares at the messages for a long moment, then falls back down on the couch and numbly opens the video chat. It might be not yet five in the morning, but his heart is in this throat and Phichit can't possibly mean what that sounds like. He's joking. He must be joking.

"Yuuri?" Phichit yawns into the video screen.

"Phichit," Yuuri says. "I'm sorry. I had my phone off for the roaming charges."

"It's okay. I know you," Phichit says with a grin, looking more awake as he sits up in bed. He's always been a morning person, which was their greatest point of contention as roommates. "And I could see you were alive and well and not kidnapped into the wilds of Siberia."

"Um, was that a possibility -- wait, no, never mind, Phichit, what are you talking about you could see me?"

"On TV? I watched Yurio's skate."

"Oh! So you saw me in the stands," Yuuri says in relief.

"Well, yes," Phichit says. "And then later they kept repeating footage of Victor scent-marking you."

"What?" Yuuri squeaks.

"And other clips where you were just... together," Phichit says. He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, but there's a hint of caution underneath his joking voice as he says, "You two seem really close now."

"No, no," Yuuri says. He buries his face in his hands. "That's not what it looked like. It wasn't real."

"What?"

And so Yuuri has to explain about Russia and unmated omegas and how he'd complained about the disapproving glares he was getting and Victor had offered to scent mark him so he wouldn't smell like he was pregnant without an alpha. And somehow that had turned into them pretending to be a couple.

"Oh," Phichit says. His brow is creased in the middle. "I don't know if that's better or worse."

"Better or worse than what?" Yuuri demands.

But Phichit doesn't answer. Instead he says, "So you got my text about the gossip blogs, right?"

And Yuuri learns about how he's been on the internet as Victor's 'new paramour' the former ballet dancer. Apparently all the blogs mention he's a male omega, show pictures of Victor scent-marking him -- apparently there's even a youtube video -- and copies of selfies with Yuuri from Victor's instagram. Phichit tells him at least a couple of the blogs have hinted about looking for a 'baby bump', which is apparently code for 'we can smell that he's pregnant but we are far too polite to mention that'.

"But it doesn't make sense," Yuuri protests. "Why would anyone care?"

"Uh, because it's Victor?" Phichit says.

"But these aren't even figure skating blogs. He's not that famous," Yuuri says.

"I think he is," Phichit says.

"But -- I mean, at the skating competitions, sure, he gets a lot of attention. But he was an Olympic medalist, so it makes sense. But no one outside of that world knows him."

"Oh, Yuuri," Phichit says, voice sounding like if Yuuri were there in person he would be patting his head in pity.

 

 

Two weeks pass. Victor still scent-marks him every night, and lets Yuuri breathe in his intoxicating sea-spice-alpha scent. Yuuri still tries to sleep separate from Victor in the same bed, and still wakes up early and extricates himself from where he's inevitably ended up in Victor's arms. Victor still hugs him and reaches for Yuuri's hand and and even scent-marks him a little in public, so apparently they're still pretending to be a couple. Yuuri knows he should probably tell Victor there's no need for it anymore, but he hasn't gotten around to it yet.

Yuuri just keeps reminding himself that this is a transaction, that Victor is just being nice, that the thought of being with Yuuri is so implausible to him that he is certain they couldn't form a bond.

And, also, he starts to realize that, yes, apparently Victor is famous. The times they've been interrupted at dinner or walking down the street with someone -- usually a giggling teenage girl -- asking for an autograph make a lot more sense now. Even if it still doesn't really make sense.

Phichit doesn't mentioned anything else about them being in the gossip blogs and Yuuri is too afraid to ask. At least none of his family or even Yuuko from has texted him with questions, which means they couldn't have heard anything.

 

 

The front door unlocks and Victor steps in, too many shopping bags in his hands for the quick trip to the store for some milk he said he was leaving on.

Ever since Yuuri started taking him to the grocery store, Victor has been oddly enthusiastic about them doing their own grocery shopping. Of course, that means if unsupervised, he tends to return home with some strange items. Yuuri isn't sure he wants to know what he'll find in the extra bags this time.

As Victor bends down to unlace his shoes, Yuuri doesn't move from his position curled up on the couch. He has a blanket tucked around him and Makkachin is acting as his obliging pillow. He has a grooming appointment tomorrow, but for today he's still nice and fluffy.

"Still napping, Yuuri?" Victor teases, standing back up.

"'m not napping," Yuuri says through a yawn. Victor raises his eyebrows. "Shut up. I know it's ridiculous to be this tired."

"It's not ridiculous, you're almost ten weeks pregnant. It's normal," Victor says. Yuuri groans. He and Victor have been swapping off reading chapters of 'When Your Omega's Expecting'. Yuuri keeps skipping paragraphs to get to the interesting parts, but Victor apparently retains every word and is unnaturally excited for every pregnancy milestone. Even if there have hardly been any so far.

"I know," Yuuri says. He sits up, letting the blanket pool on his knees, and runs a hand through his likely disheveled hair. He stretches his arms up. "But all I did today was go for a run and send in more applications for jobs I'm not qualified for. It still doesn't make sense."

Victor's looking at him, his eyes wide.

"What?" Yuuri asks, dropping his arms down from the stretch.

"Your belly," Victor says, stepping across the room, eyes fixed on Yuuri's middle.

Yuuri glances down at where his shirt had ridden up when he was stretching. He quickly tugs it down, feeling his cheeks flush. Sure, he'd noticed that it wasn't just his suit pants that were getting harder to button. But Victor doesn't have to point it out.

Victor plops on the couch next to him and says, "Let me see."

"No," Yuuri grips the hem of his t-shirt.

"Yuuuri," Victor whines, giving him wide eyes to rival Makkachin's. Makkachin, ever-loyal to his owner, gives a little whine from his other side.

"Just because I gained a couple pounds--" Yuuri starts.

"What?"

"Look, it's the first time I've eaten regular meals in a while," Yuuri says defensively. "You don't have to big a make deal out of it."

Victor stares at him for a moment, then starts laughing. "Oh, Yuuri, no, you're starting to show."

Yuuri frowns at him. "No, I'm not. It's too early."

But Victor's still grinning, amusement clear in his voice. "You're a male omega. And you're so small to begin with. Of course you're going to show early."

"But--" Yuuri starts to protest again. But then he realizes that Victor's words actually make some sense.

He might be eating regular meals for the first time in months, but he has been sticking to the healthy pregnancy meal plan that Emil had given him. And when he gains weight it's usually in his lower half first, and his pants haven't been tight over his hips or thighs. He looks up at Victor next to him. His blue eyes are dancing.

"Maybe," Yuuri says.

"Definitely," Victor says. "Please let me see?"

Yuuri huffs out a laugh, but if there's one thing he knows, it's that he can't resist Victor Nikiforov. So he pulls up his shirt a few inches to reveal his stomach and pushes the waist of his sweatpants down a little, so it's at his hips. The little curve to his stomach below his belly button is firm, not really soft at all.

He looks up at Victor, who is watching with such rapt attention that Yuuri has to bite back a laugh. He can tell Victor's itching to touch and he realizes he wants to share this with him.

So he starts to ask, "Do you want to--"

"Yes," Victor says quickly, with a sigh like relief. And then Yuuri feels his warm, elegant hand, on his stomach.

"Oh, Yuuri," Victor breathes out. He looks up at Yuuri, an adoring look in his eyes. "You're really pregnant."

"I think we knew that already," Yuuri points out.

"Yes, but now--" Victor turns to look back down at Yuuri's stomach. He rubs his hand across his abdomen. "You're amazing, Yuuri. You're so beautiful."

"But it's just a little change," Yuuri protests.

Victor meets Yuuri's eyes again and asks, "Let me scent you."

"Oh," Yuuri says. He tilts his head in invitation. "Okay."

Victor leans in and Yuuri can't help but lean into his smooth cheek against his neck. Victor's hand is still on the small curve of Yuuri's stomach and Yuuri covers it with his own.

He has the dangerous thought that he could happily stay just like this for a very long time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big apologies for the delay in update. I had work things going on, and then had to get back in the habit of writing. But I am back now and going to attempt more regular updates (crosses fingers).
> 
> Thank you all for your lovely comments. I haven't gotten to reply to all of them yet, but they are all much appreciated and I love reading all the speculation! I usually try to reply to comments before posting the next chapter, but I figured this has been delayed long enough already.
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

Ginger is the first remedy that Victor brings home.

"Pickled ginger, candied ginger, ginger pills." Yuuri frowns down at the assortment of items on the counter. "Victor, what is this for?"

"Oh! Right." Victor turns from where he's dropping a particularly ugly gingerroot into the fruit bowl. He slings an arm around Yuuri's waist from behind him and peeks down over his shoulder. "Ginger's good for morning sickness."

"Okay, but --"

Victor is unscrewing the cap on the bottle of pickled ginger and holding it up for Yuuri to smell and -- 

Yuuri slaps a hand over his mouth and nose but it's too late. He can't get the smell out of his nose. He sprints around the corner to the bathroom.

"Yuuri?" he hears Victor's call after him. Yuuri shoves the door shut and just barely makes it to the toilet in time.

"Yuuri? Are you all right?" he hears.

There's a scratching at the bathroom door, and then a canine whine.

"Yuuri?"

"I'm fine," Yuuri says, as much to Makkachin as Victor. He splashes cold water on his face and rinses his mouth. Then leans over the sink, letting his stomach settle.

"You don't seem fine," Victor says. Yuuri can hear the uncertainty in his voice even through the door. "Let me in."

"No, no, I'm coming out," Yuuri says. And then thinks the better of it and amends, "As soon as you get rid of all that ginger."

"But it's for morning sickness!"

"I don't have morning sickness," Yuuri protests. "At least, I didn't until the *ginger*."

"But the pickled ginger is Japanese! It even says, import of Japan."

"Victor." Yuuri leans more of his weight onto the counter and tries desperately to remember why he agreed to have this man's baby.

"Right. I'll just take it all down to the trash chute now."

"Thank you," Yuuri mutters.

He waits until he hears the front door open and close before he leaves the bathroom and steps into a -- hopefully -- ginger-free apartment. Makkachin's there sitting, waiting for him, tail thumping the ground as he looks up at Yuuri for approval.

"Yes," Yuuri says, sinking down to his knees and giving the poodle a hug. "You are a good boy."

 

 

Two days later, it's peppermint gum, peppermint oil, and a bag of fresh peppermint.

Yuuri locks himself in the bathroom until Victor promises it's all gone.

 

 

The day before they're set to leave for the Grand Prix Finals in Barcelona, when Victor gets back from the rink, he sets down a shopping bag on the counter where Yuuri's sitting on a barstool with his laptop.

"That's not another morning sickness 'remedy', is it?" Yuuri asks as he eyes it suspiciously.

"We need to find something that's going to work for you," Victor tells him as he reaches into the bag. Yuuri snatches his wrist.

"What is it, first?" Yuuri demands. But when Victor opens his mouth to answer, he quickly backtracks. "No, no, I don't think I want to know. You realize, I don't actually have morning sickness, right?"

"But--"

"Except, apparently, to morning sickness remedies," Yuuri amends. "And, anyways, you were there when Dr. Odagaki said she'd prescribe a safe pill for it, I just needed to call her if I got symptoms."

Victor opens his mouth, then closes it and shakes his head, looking chagrined. "I'll just get rid of these then?"

"That's probably for the best," Yuuri says, finally trusting Victor enough to release his wrist.

When Victor safely disposes of whatever monstrosity is in the shopping bag and goes off to shower, Yuuri turns back to the job search open on his laptop. He scrawls in his notebook as he scrolls through it.

Several minutes later, Victor comes up behind him, freshly showered when he leans in over Yuuri's shoulder. His silver hair, still warm from the hair dryer, tickles at Yuuri's neck. Yuuri can't help but lean back into his firm chest and breathe in his scent, only partially washed away with water and soap.

Victor strokes his hand over Yuuri's abdomen, over his warm-up jacket and says, quietly, "I wanted to do something for you."

And, just like that, any Yuuri's frustration at Victor's ridiculousness with the unnecessary morning sickness remedies evaporates. He twists around on the stool to face him.

"But you are. You do so much for me, Victor," Yuuri says, looking into Victor's sincere blue eyes in the mid-afternoon light.

"Not enough," Victor insists. He runs his palm over the side of Yuuri's neck, scenting him like he's continued to do since they left Russia. "Tell me what I can do for you."

Yuuri bites his lip and thinks. He doesn't understand why Victor could think he's not doing enough. He's doing far more than Yuuri has earned from him. Besides paying him for the surrogacy, providing him housing and meals and anything else he possibly needs, he's still going out of his way to make it look like he and Yuuri are in a relationship. Just so Yuuri can avoid the inconvenience of being judged for being a pregnant single omega.

But Yuuri recognizes the look in Victor's eyes, sincere and stubborn at once, and knows that once Victor has something like this on his mind, he doesn't let it go. He's like Makkachin in that way.

"All right," Yuuri gives in. "How about when I start getting cravings, I'll wake you up in the middle of the night and let you go get whatever it's for."

"Promise?" Victor asks, looking oddly hopeful. And then his attention gets caught by the laptop. He pulls it closer to him on the counter and says. "Yuuri! I have news. Let me show you."

"I was using that," Yuuri complains, though only half-heartedly.

"You really wanted to work as a busboy?"

"Maybe," Yuuri says defensively.

Victor sighs and types in a new web address. It's for one of the apartment searching sites and he pulls up a page with familiar pictures.

"Look," he says.

Yuuri turns his head back around and squints at Victor, wondering if his memory is as poor as it seems sometimes. "We already visited that one, remember? It's the one off Blue line subway stop? The one you made an offer for just last week?"

"Oh, I remember," Victor says. He's running his thumbs over the base of Yuuri's neck. Victor is ridiculously tactile, sometimes, but Yuuri can't find it in himself complain.

"Why are you showing it to me?" he asks.

"They accepted our offer."

"Really?" Yuuri asks, looking back at the photos. "That was my favorite."

"I know," Victor says, sounding smug.

"So what does that mean?" Yuuri asks. "Is it yours now?"

"My own people need to inspect it," Victor says. "But it's already approved by the city -- they had inspected it before the last buyer moved in and then the buyer fell through. And my decorator needs to see if the furniture she'd chosen for the old apartment still works, and it'll need to be painted, but -- even with the holidays, we could be moving in next month."

"Congratulations," Yuuri says. Even as he wonders what it says about himself that one of his first thoughts is that they won't have any excuse to share a bed anymore.

 

 

The trip to the Grand Prix Finals is more pleasant than the one to Moscow had been three weeks earlier. There's only one stopover and the seating for their main flight is more spacious in rows of two.

As they take their seats, Victor immediately raises the armrest between them and wraps an arm around Yuuri's waist, tugging him in as close as possible. Even with the seatbelts in the way, Yuuri manages to snuggle up comfortably to his side. Victor takes an obligatory selfie before following the instructions to turn electronics off.

Yuuri usually only catches a few minutes of sleep on planes if he's lucky. But this time, with how tired he's been lately, his eyes drift shut while Victor is listing the things he wants to show him in Barcelona. He's napping on Victor's shoulder before they even reach cruising altitude.

Victor, obviously remembering how upset Yuuri had been that first night in Moscow, doesn't let him go for a second once they've disembarked the plane in Barcelona.

"I need to scent mark you again," Victor murmurs as they wait for a taxi outside the airport. He has his arms wrapped around Yuuri from behind, chin resting on his shoulder.

"I think you've done more than a sufficient amount of that, Vitya," Yakov mutters from one side.

From the other side, Yurio says, "Why do you even need to, anyways, when you're hanging off him every second?"

Mila giggles.

"Yuuri's a poor omega all alone in a strange country," Victor says with a dramatic sigh. "He needs me."

Yurio mutters something in Russian that makes Yakov cuff the back of his head.

Yuuri is confused. The others must know that Victor's only doing it for his benefit, but they seem to be pretending that it's Victor imposing on him. But Yuuri's too tired to form the words to protest that and instead just leans back into Victor's chest and lets his eyes drift shut.

Yurio's saying something in English now, but Yuuri is only half paying attention because he starts to feel Victor sliding his hand under his unbuttoned coat, pressing against his stomach. Yuuri opens his eyes and stands up straight, putting a little distance between them as he gently shoves Victor's hand away.

"Victor," Yuuri says. "We can't let people see that I'm showing. They'll all start talking about it and asking questions."

It's barely over a week since he even realized he was starting to show. Soon enough, he knows he's not going to be able to hide it. And, when that happens, the polite silence around his obviously pregnant smell will disappear and people will start openly mentioning his pregnancy.

But, for now, he can hide it if he's careful about the way his clothes fall. And he's planning on being careful this weekend. He understands that the Grand Prix Finals is a bigger event than the Rostelecom Cup and, putting together various comments from Victor and the other skaters, Victor is probably going to get a lot of attention just on his own. Yuuri would prefer to avoid as much of that off himself as possible.

"I want the whole world to know you're carrying my baby," Victor protests, a whine in his voice.

Yuuri opens his mouth, ready to apologize, but Yakov interrupts.

"Anyone with a nose already knows that, Vitya," Yakov corrects him. "Let the poor boy have a respite from gossip while he still can."

"Right," Victor says. He turns back to Yuuri, light blue eyes meeting his as he reaches for the buttons on Yuuri's coat and starts fastening them for him. "I'm sorry. I'll make sure no one has an excuse to say anything this weekend."

 

 

Yuuri wakes to the sound of... something. Was it his name? He rubs his eyes and rolls over into... the empty other side of the bed. Opening his eyes is a mistake, when the Barcelona morning light coming in through the wall of windows of their 22nd story room. For a winter day, the sky is painfully sunny and blue. He shuts his eyes again quickly, and then buries his head in a pillow for good measure.

"Yuuri, come swimming with me!" he hears.

"Victor?" he asks. He cracks open a cautious eye to catch sight of Victor, who is a blur of pale skin with something white -- a towel? -- around his shoulders, clad only in what appears to be either garishly colored shorts or swim trunks. When he'd told Yuuri to pack a swimsuit, apparently he hadn't been joking after all. "Swimming?"

"There's a pool on the roof," Victor says.

"'S too cold," Yuuri murmurs, closing his eyes again. "An' too early."

"It'll be refreshing," comes Victor's unfairly cheerful voice. "And it's almost eight o'clock."

Yuuri groans into his pillow. "I'm pregnant."

"Are you planning to use that excuse for the next 27 weeks?" comes Victor's teasing voice.

"Yes," Yuuri says sullenly.

He hears Victor chuckle, and then a warm hand rubs over his back. Yuuri snuggles into the bed, relaxing again. He feels the hotel comforter being tucked around his shoulders as he falls back to sleep.

 

 

Yuuri wakes up the next time to a ding of his phone. He fumbles over his side of the bed and manages to grab onto his phone and his glasses. He lets out a yawn as he sits up cross-legged in bed. He runs a hand over his stomach, as if to reassure himself that that tiny firm bump that is Victor's baby is still there.

The phone says 'roaming' at the top, but Yuuri added an international plan to his contract after they got back from Russia, when he'd seen the figure skating competition schedule and realized how often he'd be flying abroad with Victor and Yurio this year.

He hasn't told anyone that. So he still has plausible deniability if he happens to power off his phone.

Right now, he glances at the notifications from instagram.

After he'd finally checked Victor's instagram and realized just how many photos there were of him on there, Yuuri had re-installed the app on his phone.

Victor's account was full of selfies of the two of them he hadn't even remembered Victor taking. And photos, too, of just himself, or Makkachin, or himself and Makkachin together. Yuuri didn't think he'd ever been tagged in this many photos in his lifetime -- which was saying a lot since he'd spent the last few years living with Phichit.

He'd made a photo Victor had taken of him in front of Bolshoi Ballet on his birthday his new profile photo. And saved a cute picture of Makkachin as his new lock screen. And then made Victor take down a photo of himself and Makkachin napping together.

"But it's so cute!" Victor had protested.

"Victor, I'm *drooling*."

"It's adorable!"

That was when he'd re-installed the app on his phone. He'd had to ask Phichit to remind him of his password and he also had Phichit set it up to notify him when he was tagged in new posts.

For some reason, this morning, he's tagged in photos of Victor and a very... naked? ... blond man at the hotel pool. '@y-katsuki is missing out!'

Yuuri drops back down onto the bed and sighs.

 

 

When Yuuri gets out of the shower, Victor is back, dressed in sweats, towel over his shoulders and with his hair still drying at the tips. He's just putting the hotel phone down when he turns around to Yuuri.

"Yuuri, you missed out!" Victor exclaims, grinning at him.

"I saw the photos," Yuuri protests, but can't help but meet Victor's smile with a small one of his own. It's like a reflex lately. How is he supposed to stop himself when Victor gives him that dazzling smile, the one that lights up his whole face?

"Chris missed you," Victor says. "I told him all about you."

"Is that the Chris who was your reference? The one in the photos?"

Victor nods.

Yuuri bites his lip. "I just wasn't expecting -- I mean, he's very..."

"Sexy?" Victor fills in. Yuuri opens his mouth to deny it, because he wasn't sure what word he was going for, but it wasn't that one. But Victor continues and says, "Wait until you see his programs."

"Oh."

Victor hums and steps up into his space. He tugs the neck of Yuuri's white sweater a little to the side and leans down to press his nose into the crook of Yuuri's neck.

"I need to scent mark you again," he says.

"But I didn't use that scent neutralizing shampoo," Yuuri says dumbly. Victor had scent marked him last night, holding Yuuri right up until he fell asleep. And, in any case, right now, Victor himself smells more like chlorine than the sea-spice-alpha scent Yuuri is used to.

"But we should be sure that it's clear who you're attached to," Victor murmurs. "Wouldn't want any misunderstandings."

"Right," Yuuri says weakly. Even though causing 'misunderstandings' are exactly what their goal is.

"After I shower," Victor tells him. Yuuri is sure he's imagining the reluctance with which Victor pulls back. As Victor heads for the bathroom, he calls out over his shoulder. "If there's a knock at the door, it's just room service."

"Room service?" Yuuri repeats.

"I thought you'd at least prefer to eat breakfast without any extra attention from the crowds," Victor says.

"Oh. Thank you," Yuuri says, immediately grateful. He hadn't thought about how crowded the hotel breakfast room would be. His pregnant smell is stronger, he knows, in an enclosed room like that.

Victor gives him a wink before he disappears into the bathroom.

He remembers well the multiple news crews and crowds of fans and reporters outside and inside the hotel yesterday when they'd arrived. He'd done his best to surreptitiously hide in the crowds while the others, especially Victor, had been waylaid by news crew after news crew.

It had been easier to do in Barcelona than in Moscow, but he was still grateful when Yurio had come to his rescue, grabbing his arm and roughly dragging him through the crowd into the elevator.  
Yuuri had asked him why he wasn't still down there doing interviews with his coach, but Yurio had just scoffed and said that Victor was going to give him bruises from the number of times he stepped on his foot when he was just trying to answer questions, so he'd given up.

 

 

"I wish you'd let me buy you a new suit, Yuuri," Victor complains as they walk hand in hand through the Christmas market that night. Strands of lights twinkle above them.

Yuuri has the wild thought that this feels almost like a date. But he shuts down that down firmly in his head.

He's decided that he can take wrap himself in Victor's scent and presence and the intoxicating way he gives Yuuri all his attention. He can sleep cuddled into him at night now, and stop putting extra distance between them. It might even be good for the baby if he does. But he can only do all that as long as he regularly reminds himself this is pretend. That it's an act.

He can take comfort in Victor for the time that he has him as long as he remembers that what they have is a transaction and in times, like right now, Victor is just protecting him from attention by pretending to be a couple.

The pretending will all end soon, anyways, when Yuuri starts truly showing. They'll have to answer questions and his role as surrogate -- not unbonded pregnant omega -- will come out.

But, for now, the role works. The streets are crowded enough with tourists brushing by them that Yuuri gets plenty of looks from people who must smell his pregnant scent. But, walking with Victor like this, he's gotten only a couple disapproving glares in the midst of many other soft smiles, people looking like they want to say congratulations except for the way his coat falls down in straight lines, no baby bump yet visible, and even more people who politely look away.

"I have a suit," Yuuri reminds Victor.

"Ah, but does it fit?" Victor asks, raising an eyebrow as his eyes track down in the direction of his midsection. 

"Well enough," Yuuri says. "I tried it on again before we left."

And, when he'd mentioned to Phichit that his clothes were starting to get tight, he'd helped him find a button extender online. So, worst case, he can use that.

"We'll go maternity clothes shopping after we get back, then!" Victor announces, sounding far too gleeful as he bumps their shoulders together.

"Shouldn't we wait a little longer? I'm sure my suit will probably work for Russian nationals, too." They're less than two weeks after they get back. If Yurio had had a rink to practice in in Moscow, they probably would have gone straight there.

"I already made a list of the stores with men's clothes. The one on 4th is supposed to be the best."

"As in, most fashionable and most expensive?" Yuuri teases.

"Of course," Victor says. Yuuri shakes his head.

Victor is so much more prepared than him for this. But then Victor has been more prepared than him all along. And it's not like Yuuri really has to be prepared, right? He doesn't even need to read the expending pile of pregnancy and baby books in Victor's apartment. He just has to keep being pregnant. It's Victor who has to be ready to take a baby home.

They're interrupted by the Victor's phone vibrating in his pocket. And since when are they walking so close that Yuuri can feel his phone vibrate? He self-consciously takes a step away as Victor checks his messages.

It's directions to meet up with the other skaters for some authentic Catalan food.

The restaurant is just around the corner, and so when they get there, it is just Chris waiting at the table. He's a lot more clothed than in the photos Yuuri saw that morning, in a brown coat and sweater, but somehow still manages to exude that same -- well, in Victor's words, sex appeal.

"Chris, you're here already," Victor says, giving Chris a smile. It's somewhere in between the dazzling smile he gives his fans and the wide grin that makes Yuuri feel warm inside.

"Coach Victor," Chris says laconically when his eyes rise up from his phone. "Ah, and Yuuri Katsuki." He stands up and holds out his hand. "You are even more beautiful than in Victor's photos."

"Oh. Um," Yuuri says awkwardly. Chris holds his gloved hand a moment longer than Yuuri thinks is probably normal before he sits back down.

Chris eyes them as Victor draws a chair back for Yuuri, and then touches his back as he guides him to sit down before taking the chair next to him.

"You look well," Chris says. He's obviously hinting at the pregnancy Yuuri knows anyone can smell plainly on him. 

"Um, thank you," Yuuri says. Though Chris obviously knows all the details and has no obligation to pretend otherwise, Yuuri crosses his fingers under the table that he won't bring up his obviously negative opinions on surrogacy. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Chris says. 

Yuuri can smell his expensive cologne and, underneath that, his beta orientation. Alphas and omegas rarely cover up with artificial scents. Alphas, because traditionally their scent established their dominance and telling others not to mess with them -- though, Yuuri knows from lessons in school that that was always a myth, and alphas are no more likely to be aggressive, let alone violent, than any other orientation. And for omegas, it's thought that anything artificial mixes poorly with their naturally 'alluring' scents. The most many omegas will do is use scent neutralizing soaps, though they don't tend to work very well, to Yuuri's continued disappointment.

Victor's arm comes around Yuuri and Yuuri automatically relaxes against his shoulder. Chris gives them a meaningful look and Yuuri ducks his head down to stare at the menu. He wonders if Victor explained to him the act they're putting on.

The others slowly join them at the table. 

There's Yurio and, with him, a dark-haired boy from Kazakhstan.

"Making friends, Yurio?" Victor teases.

It earns Yuuri a sharp kick to his shin. At Yuuri's startled yelp, Yurio's eyes widen, and he almost looks like he is going to apologize, but then just mutters, "That was for Victor."

The Kazakh boy is quiet. His eyes trace dispassionately over Yuuri and then he looks away.

Then there's the Canadian skater that keeps skating to those JJ songs that Yurio hates. He's surprisingly soft-spoken for all the pomposity of the songs he skates to.

Then a skater from Cambodia. "The first skater from Southeast Asia to make it so far!" he proclaims with an enthusiastic grin. "I don't even care how I place. I feel like I have already won."

And then a couple others from Europe sit down at the far end of the table.

"So, how did you two meet?" the Canadian skater asks them, and Yuuri turns to Victor, feeling his eyes widen in panic. He doesn't have an answer for that. It's probably not an unreasonable question, as intrusive as it seems. They are *pretending* to be a couple, after all.

Luckily Victor is more prepared for the question than Yuuri is. "I saw him dancing," Victor says smoothly, and squeezes his arm around Yuuri's shoulder. "Yuuri is an exquisite dancer."

"Oh, of course! I can't believe I didn't put it together," the Canadian skater says. He turns to Yuuri with a kind smile. "You know, Victor couldn't stop talking about you last year."

Without thinking, Yuuri's opening his mouth to protest that they didn't meet until a few months ago. But Victor stiffens beside him and one of the European skaters cuts in.

"So that is you! We were wondering," he says, pushing back a mop of brown bangs. "Victor was a man obsessed, if you don't mind me saying."

"How did you meet?" the Canadian asks. "I'm sure it's quite a romantic story."

"Oh, um, I don't know," Yuuri mumbles. Victor's arm is still around his shoulder, but his whole body is still tense. He doesn't know why Victor isn't saving this conversation. But he doesn't want to look at Victor in question, isn't sure he wants to know what he'll find in his expression.

Because Victor had been obsessed over some man he met last year. A man who was also a dancer. That's why, Yuuri realizes suddenly, Victor chose him. Why he had been so confident when Yuuri was hardly anything special. He must have reminded Victor of this other man.

Of course Yuuri is a 'surrogate' in the full sense of the word.

The Kazakh skater meets Yuuri's eyes with his own steady dark eyes. Yuuri doesn't know if he can tell just by his expression how obviously it wasn't him Victor had apparently been gone over. Or if is even meant to be the kindness it seems to be. But he stands up abruptly and mumbles something about finding the restroom.

 

 

After toweling off his hair, Yuuri gets into the bed at a careful distance from Victor and tries his best to pretend he doesn't want to cry. Victor seems to be able to smell every little thing about him. He's afraid that even if he'd cried in the shower, Victor would figure it out.

"Is something wrong, Yurochka?" Victor asks. After Yuuri had returned from the bathroom back at the restaurant, the table's conversation had turned to another topic and Victor had been his normal, relaxed, easily affectionate self since then.

"No, no," Yuuri denies. He bites his lip in the dark. It's not Victor's fault, after all, that Yuuri was so stupid to think this was about him. Yuuri doesn't even know what he'd been thinking, to believe that Victor would truly want *his* baby just because it was Yuuri's. "I'm just tired, I guess."

Victor hums and says, "Of course you are. Here." He arranges them so that Yuuri's lying on his side and Victor is hugging him from behind. He places a protective hand over the slight curve of Yuuri's stomach.

Yuuri takes a deep breath. It comes out a little ragged, but Victor's scent is still comforting as it fills his nose.

 

 

The Kazakh boy gets gold. Chris gets silver. The Canadian gets bronze. Yurio does technically well, better than Yuuri's seen him, but his base score isn't quite high enough to make up for his missed presentation points.

Victor is disappointed, Yuuri can tell. But in front of the cameras, he smiles that smile that he's somehow fooled the world into thinking is genuine, and tells the reporters he's proud of Yurio's performance, that he's made a remarkable senior debut for a skater still so young. When the reporters point out that he'd performed much better in his own senior debut, Victor smoothly deflects.

And now, at the banquet, Yuuri watches from the corner as Victor schmoozing with Yurio's sponsors. Yurio is... Yuuri isn't entirely sure where he went. But, given the foul mood he's been in since his last score was announced, it's probably for the best that he's not around to talk to his sponsors.

Yuuri had retreated to the corner, tired and wanting nothing less than to have to socialize with Important People, while they all pretend that it's not obvious that he's pregnant with Victor's baby.

A waiter brings him a glass of water instead of champagne without being asked. Yuuri sighs.

He's sipping on his water, sitting at a table in the corner and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, as he regrets not using the button extender on his suit pants tonight because they're getting uncomfortable where they dig into his waist, when Chris sidles up and takes the chair next to him.

"Congratulations," Yuuri says, looking at the silver medal hanging over his neck.

"Why, thank you, Yuuri," Chris says, sipping on his own champagne. "I didn't want to break my silver medal-streak, after all."

He winks at Yuuri and there's surprisingly more humor than bitterness in his tone.

"You know, I visited Victor last year after Skate America," Chris says.

"Oh?" Yuuri says, just grateful that Chris seems to have chosen a topic far away from his disapproval of Yuuri being Victor's surrogate.

"Did you grow up in the city?"

Yuuri shakes his head. "I moved there for ballet and college. I grew up a couple hours away. I mean, after we moved from Japan."

"Lots to do there in the city," Chris says. "I remember Victor and I went to this club -- I believe it was called Supernova. It was quite a good time. Have you ever been there?"

Yuuri shakes his head. It's down the street from a restaurant and bar that he'd been to a few times with his fellow dancers, but he's never been inside. "I'm not really into clubbing."

Chris nods and seems to accept that, and takes another sip of his champagne. 

"But I'm glad you enjoyed your visit," Yuuri says, trying to keep the polite conversation going, since Chris is, after all, rescuing him from the awkwardness of the corner of the room.

"I did," Chris says easily. Then, in a segue that has Yuuri almost spitting out his water, says, "So, you and Victor are together now?"

"What? No," Yuuri exclaims. Then looks around quickly to make sure no one is listening in. "No. He didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Chris asks, not bothering to hide his interest.

"You know I'm just his surrogate," Yuuri says. Is it at all possible that Chris had forgotten? "We're just pretending."

"Pretending?" Chris repeats, raising an eyebrow.

"It's fake. It's just--" Yuuri doesn't know why the words are painful to say now. A big part of him wishes he could take back his agreement to this whole idea of scent-marking and a fake relationship. He'd spent the last couple days as Victor's 'boyfriend' in Barcelona, holding his hand, getting hugs and compliments and being scented in public where anyone could see. It was both wonderful and painful. He continues, "I got a lot of attention in Russia, for being an unbonded omega who smelled--"

"Pregnant?" Chris fills in. He cocks his head. "I wouldn't have thought about that."

"Um, neither did I. Or Victor. It's kind of conservative there," Yuuri says. Then he realizes in alarm how this must look to one of Victor's friends, like he's taking advantage. No wonder Chris is asking questions. Yuuri quickly adds, willing Chris to believe him, "It was his idea. I promise, I wasn't trying to manipulate him."

"Oh, I know that, Yuuri," Chris says, anyways, shaking his head with a chuckle that somehow seems less than amused. "This plan has Victor written all over it."

Yuuri isn't sure what he means by that, but he nods anyways in relief. "It was very nice of him to do this for me, just to make me feel more comfortable."

"Right," Chris says, taking another sip of champagne as he turns to look out on the room. Yuuri follows his gaze to where Victor's talking with the sponsors. Victor seems to sense their eyes on him and turns to look their direction. He meets Yuuri's eyes and gives him a big smile and Yuuri, despite himself, can't help how it warms his chest.

 

 

"It's an abomination, really. A grotesque twist of genetics," the woman on Phichit's laptop is telling the reporter. "Women were made to have children, not men. You know male omegas can usually only give birth via c-section?"

"They can hardly help their own biology, though," the reporter points out.

"But they can have hysterectomies," the woman says. "Did you know, if you perform a hysterectomy on a male omega as a child, they won't even have to have heats? There've been studies. They can be just like male betas. And they can get a female bondmate pregnant just like any real man."

"Yuuri! What on earth are you watching?" Phichit demands. Yuuri looks up to see Phichit coming back from his room where he was feeding the hamsters.

"You told me to," Yuuri says defensively. The woman is talking about how disgusting it is to catch the scent of pregnancy coming off of a man.

Phichit snatches his laptop away and stops the video. "I told you to look up Rick Davis because he just announced he was pregnant."

"I did," Yuuri says defensively. "This is what came up."

It was a live feed from some Hollywood gossip site. Yuuri had caught the tail end of a reporter outside the star's mansion explaining the pregnancy announcement, and then they had switched to a group of protestors outside the studios where his latest movie had been filmed.

Phichit sighs as he sinks down onto the couch next to Yuuri. "You know real people don't actually think that way, right?"

"I know that," Yuuri says. But he thinks about some of the glares he's gotten walking down the downtown streets from people who've passed close enough by him to smell that he was pregnant. It's not often. Most people politely turn away. Some give him looks of surprise, as if somehow they'd forgotten male omegas could get pregnant. There've only been one or two looks of disgust and at least no one has said anything to him.

He knows, as far as stereotypes go, the one that children of male omegas are stronger, smarter and healthier than other children is more commonly believed than the prejudice on his laptop screen right now. He was there in high school history class when they learned about male omega slaves being given as treasured gifts to kings and princes.

Of course, then there's also the reputation of male omegas being seducers. They're thought to be the inspiration for the myth of incubi. Which, well, couldn't be further from the truth, in Yuuri's case, at least.

"Yuuri, are you paying attention?"

"What? Oh, yes, sorry," Yuuri says. He gives Phichit a sheepish smile. "I was just thinking."

"I could tell," Phichit says dryly. Yuuri playfully punches his shoulder and Phichit laughs, and says, "I asked you how things with Victor are. Are you still getting along?"

"Of course we are," Yuuri says. He draws his legs folded up on the couch and turns a little to face Phichit. "Everything's fine."

Phichit's eyes narrow. "You're saying that in your 'not fine' voice, Yuuri."

"But everything *is* fine," Yuuri protests. "He's kind and generous -- and you know he still scents me? So people don't think I don't have an alpha?"

"Yes, I might be a beta, but even I can smell that, Yuuri," Phichit says, rolling his eyes.

"Right," Yuuri says. "And we still sleep together and spend a lot of time together every day but somehow we still get along? And it's kind of adorable how dramatic he is, but, underneath, he's a lot more human than he lets on."

"Wait, wait, back up," Phichit says. "You *sleep* together? You told me last time you *weren't* sleeping together."

"And we're still not!" Yuuri denies quickly. "Not, um, like that. It was just so he could scent me so I don't smell like I'm a single pregnant omega. And then it didn't make sense for him not to stay. I mean, I felt bad he was sleeping on the couch for so long." 

"So you pretend to be a couple when you're in public," Phichit says.

"Right, exactly."

"And it sounds like you're also pretending to be a couple in private."

Yuuri frowns at him. "That's not it--"

"Where is the line, then, Yuuri?"

Yuuri opens his mouth, then shuts it, then opens it again. "The line is that it's business. He's paying me to have his baby, Phichit."

Phichit raises his eyebrows skeptically. "And he remembers that?"

"Of course!" Yuuri says. "He'd never be interested in being with me. I mean, he even said we would never accidentally bond, no matter how concerned our counselor was. There's only one way to interpret that."

Phichit is frowning at him now, so Yuuri continues.

"And, anyways, I know why he chose me now," he says.

"And why is that?"

"Some of the skaters in Barcelona mentioned that there was this dancer last year he was in love with," Yuuri says. "I don't know what happened, but obviously Victor's still in love with him. So when he had to pick a surrogate, he picked someone as similar as possible."

"You asked him about this?" Phichit says.

"No, but he was there," Yuuri says. He remembers how Victor tensed when the subject was brought up. "I don't know what happened with his dancer, I can't imagine that anyone wouldn't want to be with Victor if they had the chance. So maybe he was already bonded to someone else? Or maybe he died? I'm not going to bring it up."

"Right," Phichit says. "And you're all right with that?"

"Of course," Yuuri says. He's not sure if it's the truth. But he wants it to be. There's no reason for him not to be okay with that. "I just agreed to be his surrogate, you know." He looks down and rests a hand on the small bump of his stomach. "And he's going to be an amazing father to her."

"Her?" Phichit perks up. "You found out the gender?"

"Or him. It feels wrong to say 'it' and it feels like a girl," Yuuri amends. He wonders, do pregnant parents have special instincts for these things? "Anyways, Phichit, I came over to congratulate you on getting the lead in Bayou, not to talk about myself!"

"Aww, thanks, Yuuri!" Phichit says, and hugs his arms tight around Yuuri's shoulders. "I only got it because you aren't there anymore, you know."

"That's not true," Yuuri protests. "I don't even know why I got so many leads in the first place. I wasn't any better than a lot of you."

Phichit sighs. "Anyone else and I'd think you were fishing for compliments. Do I need to give you the self-esteem lecture again?"

"No, no," Yuuri says quickly. Phichit's self-esteem lecture involves a surprising amount of tough love.

Phichit eyes him for a long moment, then says, "You need to come hang out with us sometime, you know. If you don't want to come by the studios you could at least join us for drinks sometime. Or, you know what, Leo's having a New Year's party. You should come!"

Yuuri bites his lip. He's been avoiding meeting anyone else from Ballet du Nord ever since his disastrous performance last spring that ended his career. And now they'd all smell that he was pregnant. He lays a hand on his stomach, over his sweater. He swears his little bump is getting bigger every day. Luckily, it's winter so he can still wear lots of layers when he's in public so it's unclear if he's showing and people won't comment. But he's wearing his looser clothes now, the ones that still fit when he puts on weight. And by New Year's he'll be even bigger and if he's at a party he'll have to take off his winter coat. Which means people will ask questions.

"Everyone wants to see you," Phichit continues. "They ask about you all the time."

"What do you tell them?" Yuuri asks apprehensively. No way would anyone understand what he's doing. He's a walking advertisement for his inability to do anything real with his life. 

"That you have a new job involving kids," Phichit says, with a wink. "It's not untrue."

Yuuri sighs and leans back against the familiar scratchy couch cushions. "I already agreed to go to a New Year's party with the figure skaters."

Yakov is holding -- Yuuri can only imagine reluctantly -- a New Year's party at his house. Apparently New Year's is a lot bigger holiday in Russia, more like how Christmas is here in the West. And at least all the skaters already know he's pregnant, and how he's just Victor's surrogate, so he won't have to explain.

"All right," Phichit says, with a little pout. It has nothing on Victor's pouts, Yuuri thinks idly. "But you'll come out with us sometimes, right?"

"Sure," Yuuri agrees as non-commitally as possible. "Sometime."

 

 

Yuuri finishes the routine, the lead part of the final dance in La Bayadere that he'd danced two years ago. Ballet's been on his mind more than usual ever since he hears that Phichit had finally gotten his first lead role. La Bayadere was one of his favorites. One of the few he remembers feeling proud of his performance. He holds the final pose of the solo to a round of... applause?

He jerks around and snatches the ear buds out of his ears. Victor's in the doorway to the ballet studio, grinning and clapping loudly. Yurio is watching with a strange look on his face, lips slightly parted. And Minako is leaning against the wall next to them, arms crossed, looking bored and maybe like she wants a drink.

Yuuri feels his cheeks heat.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "I didn't realize anyone was here. I lost track of time."

"Yuuri, that was amazing!" Victor exclaims.

"Not bad," Minako shrugs. "Your grand plie was lazy. But you're not completely out of shape."

"Uh," Yuuri says, not sure how to respond to that. Yurio is still staring at him.

They've been back in town just a few days and they had made plans to meet up here to go to dinner at a restaurant Victor had heard of nearby.

"I could practically hear you making the music!" Victor says. "What were you dancing?"

"Oh." Yuuri glances over at his phone on the table, which has moved onto the neck track. He can hear the faint tinny sound through the wireless earbuds in his hands. "It's the final dance from La Bayadere. I was in it a couple years ago."

"I haven't seen that one," Victor complains. "I watched all the ones I could find on Youtube. You need to show me."

"I don't think it was filmed," Yuuri says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Of course it was filmed. I have a copy of the official dvd," Minako says. "I'll show it to you."

"Excellent!" Victor turns again to Yuuri. "You know, it is a tragedy to the world you are no longer dancing."

"I'm really not that good," Yuuri says, ducking his head. He tries to change the subject. "Just give me a minute to get changed, sorry I'm making us late to dinner."

But as he's starts to turn around, Yurio stomps forward, looking like a teenage hoodlum in his black hoodie and tiger-print shoes. He points at Yuuri, finger poking him in the chest.

"You're going to teach me that," Yurio tells him.

"Teach you what?" Yuuri asks, a little stunned.

"All of it," Yurio says. "I need all of it."

Yuuri says slowly, a little disbelievingly, "You want me to teach you ballet?"

"Yes! That's what I just said."

"That's actually a really good idea!" Victor exclaims, coming up behind Yurio. "Yurio is very flexible. Ballet will be perfect for him. He can incorporate some of the choreography into his programs..."

Yurio glares at Victor, though it seems to be just for the principal of it. Yuuri can practically see Victor's mind racing, like he's already changing up the choreography in his mind.

"Have you not danced before?" Yuuri asks Yurio. He'd thought most of the skaters did some kind of dance.

"Of course I have," Yurio says defensively, crossing his arms in front of himself.

"Yurio's last ballet teacher back in Russia kicked him out of the class," Victor says.

"I was *twelve*," Yurio says. "And she was an idiot. She couldn't do anything like--" He gestures toward Yuuri and the room. "--like that."

"He didn't get along with the other students," Victor says, winking at Yuuri. "But you can give him private lessons. It's perfect. You're looking for a job, anyways!"

"You don't have to -- it doesn't have to be a job," Yuuri says. "I mean, I'd be happy to just teach you in your spare time."

"No, as Yurio's coach, I'm going to hire you!" Victor says. And then his eyes light up even more. "And I bet Yakov would love to have you teach his skaters. You can teach them all kinds of dance."

Yuuri stares at him, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. Sure, he'd been looking for jobs as a dance instructor, but he doubts that Yakov would trust a nobody with no teaching experience with his Olympic-level skaters.

But when he says this, Victor replies, "Of course he would! You'd be perfect. I bet you're an excellent teacher."

Yuuri twists the edge of his t-shirt in his hands. "Maybe I could just start with giving Yurio some lessons. See how it goes."

"You can practice here," Minako says. "God knows no one else is coming here."

"What else do you know?" Yurio demands.

"You mean dancing styles?" Yuuri asks and Yurio nods impatiently. Yuuri rubs his neck and says, "A few different ones. I was a dance major in college. Tango, Samba, ballroom, swing --"

"Pole dancing," Minako interjects dryly.

"Minako!" Yuuri exclaims. He glares at her, betrayed. And then chances a look at Victor, whose lips are curved up in amusement. Probably at the ridiculousness of Yuuri of all people pole dancing. Yuuri sighs and says, "I know a little pole dancing. It's harder than it looks. It's good for strength and balance."

"Do you wear bootie shorts?" Victor asks interestedly.

"No," Yuuri lies, even as he feels his cheeks flush again. He does indeed wear what Phichit calls 'bootie shorts', but only because he needs his legs bare to grip the pole.

"Will you teach me?" Victor presses.

"Yuuri is teaching *me*, not a retired old man," Yurio interrupts.

"You want to learn pole dancing, Yurio?" Victor asks, grinning. "I hear it's good for strength and balance."

Yurio opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Yuuri, still flushed, interrupts, "I think ballet is a better fit for you, Yurio. Now, um, shall we go to dinner? Some of us are hungry and pregnant."

Victor immediately exclaims, "Yuuri! You should have said something." He throws his arm over Yuuri's shoulder. "Come on, it's right around the corner. Minako, are you coming? It's the place you recommended!"

He starts to lead Yuuri out of the door when Yuuri halts with a little laugh, almost literally carried away by Victor's enthusiasm. "I have to get changed, Victor."

He sees Victor look him up and down. He's wearing an old t-shirt, but has ballet tights on, too. He refuses to blush yet again, though. He's far exceeded his quota for the night.

Victor hums and says, "You look more than fine right now, solnishko."

"I'm all sweaty," Yuuri protests, ducking around him to go for the small back changing room.

"But you smell so good like this," Victor complains after him.

Yuuri shakes his head and ducks into the dressing room as Yurio says something rude back to Victor. He reminds himself that Victor thinks he smells good just because he smells like he's pregnant with his baby. 

 

 

"So, what are we eating?" Victor asks Yuuri as the four of them sit down at the table. 

"Um, why are you looking at me?" Yuuri asks. "All I've ever eaten here is the katsudon."

"Then that's what we'll have!" Victor decides.

"Don't decide for me," Yurio snaps, grabbing a menu from the holder on the side of the table. He frowns down at it. "Why is this all in Japanese? Where's the English? And why is that waitress looking at us like that?"

"You do realize you're the only white people here, right?" Minako says as she gestures to the waitress, who's dropping off a tray at another people, to come over. It's a small place, and only half-full as it is. But now that Yuuri thinks about it, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone who isn't Asian here.

"And what's katsudon?" Yurio demands.

"It's a pork cutlet bowl," Yuuri says. "Theirs isn't bad here, but it's not as good as my mother's. It's her specialty at the onsen -- err, the hot springs resort my family has up in the mountains. It's my favorite food."

"I'm sorry you can't go home for Christmas, Yuuri, or you could eat your mother's katsudon soon," Victor says. He's already apologized a dozen times for taking Yuuri away from his family for Christmas. Christmas was in January in Russia and New Year's is the biggest holiday, anyways, he'd explained. Which was why the Russian Nationals were scheduled for December 25th and 26th.

"Victor, it's still fine," Yuuri says, shaking his head. If anything, it's a relief to have a good excuse to avoid his family a little longer. He smiles at Victor. "And this way we can celebrate your birthday. I don't think I'll come up with anything as good as the Bolshoi Theatre, but I'll try!"

"You liked it?" Victor fishes with a smile on his face, even though Yuuri's said over and over that he has.

"It's all Yuuri's talked about every time he's come by," Minako points out dryly.

"Aww, you did like it!"

"Of course I did," Yuuri says, charmed despite himself by the childish pride in Victor's eyes. "I would have liked anything you gave me, though."

"Ugh, stop flirting, it's disgusting," Yurio says.

"What? No. We're not--" Yuuri starts to deny.

"Someday I will take you back there," Victor says as if he hasn't heard either of them. "Too bad the Nationals are in Sochi this year or we'd be able to go now. At least it will be warmer there than in Moscow. I know how much you like the cold," he teases.

"Fifty bucks says Yuuri will be wishing he was in a Russian winter when he's nine months pregnant in June," Minako points out. "And were you even planning on going home this year, anyways, Yuuri? Have you even told your family yet that you're pregnant?"

Yuuri gives Minako a dark look, which is lost on her because she's turned away to ask the waitress for a beer. She glances at Victor and asks, what he's drinking, to which he replies, "Whatever you are" and she tells the waitress to make it two.

The waitress leaves, not even bothering to ask what Yuuri or Yurio want. Yuuri can guess that's because she can smell the pregnancy on him and would bet that fifty bucks that she'll bring him water unprompted. Other people have been deciding on his own drink orders for weeks. It's not as if he would have had alcohol, or caffeine for that matter, but it would be nice to pretend to have autonomy once in a while.

"You haven't told your family you're pregnant?" Victor asks eyes widening. This discussion is exactly why he's tried not to talk too much about his family around Victor.

"There hasn't been the right time," Yuuri says, excuse sounding lame even to his own ears. And when he called his parents for Thanksgiving -- they've been in America long enough to celebrate it -- he'd quickly changed the topic when they asked about his ballet. Luckily, they couldn't talk long because the inn was, for a change, actually busy for the holiday. The last time he'd had an honest conversation with them had been when he'd called his mother in tears from his bed in the emergency room to tell her about his humiliating failure and how he'd let everyone in the performance down. He can't bring himself to tell them that all the money they'd spent to let him pursue dancing had been for nothing.

And he's been as evasive as possible when he replies to Mari's texts lately. He thinks she might be starting to suspect something's not right, but she hasn't called him on it.

"They think he's still in the Ballet du Nord," Minako adds helpfully. Yuuri, without his family to talk to, tells her all too much. It's as if the comfort of being able to speak Japanese with someone -- someone who even has the same Kyushu accent and can't make fun of him for it -- makes his tongue too loose.

"They do?" Victor asks. He's frowning at Yuuri. "I thought you were close with your family."

Yuuri bites his tongue so he doesn't snap back with something about Victor hypocritically not having any contact with his own family. The one time he'd asked Victor about them, he'd gotten a brooding look on his face and Yuuri hadn't called him on the way he immediately changed the subject.

Yuuri looks around desperately for his own change in subject and-- there it is. The waitress is at the front, looking bored.

"We're ready to order," he tells her in Japanese.

 

 

"Everything's coming along nicely," Dr. Odagaki says. They've been back from Russian Nationals for a few days and at Yuuri's scheduled 12 week visit. She slides the ultrasound probe across his stomach and presses a few buttons on the machine.

"Yes? So the baby's growing well?" Victor asks, giving Yuuri's hand a squeeze. Yuuri's eyes are stuck on the ultrasound screen, where Dr. Odagaki had frozen on a grainy image of Victor's baby inside of him.

"Well, 12 weeks isn't a standard time for an ultrasound for most pregnancies," she says. "So we're not officially measuring growth or anatomy today. We're just doing an extra check because the last big hurdle for omega pregnancies is proper development of the placenta. Omegas, even females, have different pregnancy hormones than beta females. The uterus doesn't always respond the same way. We'd give you estrogen supplements if we needed to reduce the risk of placenta previa or accreta, but it looks like that won't be necessary. Judging by the look of your placenta now, the risk should be the same as any beta pregnancy."

Yuuri had presented as an omega at thirteen by way of a very confusing, disturbing heat. Maybe he hadn't paid enough attention in sex ed or he should have been watching more porn, but he hadn't realized that he would be leaking slick from his bottom. His parents had taken him to the doctor when he'd recovered from the heat and he'd run some tests and did an ultrasound to confirm if he was capable of bearing children. Something about the reproductive anatomy not always being fully formed in male omegas, just one of the reasons that it was so difficult for male omegas to get pregnant. He'd been told his body was well prepared for pregnancy and expected him to be quite fertile. At the time, hearing that disturbed him almost as much as the slick had.

"But the placenta is normal?" Victor confirms, and the doctor nods. Victor grins down at him. "You hear that, Yuuri? You're perfect. I wouldn't want anyone else to be carrying my baby, solnishko."

Yuuri wishes his heart wouldn't skip a beat at that praise. Victor isn't his alpha. And, even if, in some impossible universe, he was, Yuuri shouldn't *need* that praise. But he can't help but smile back at him.

"So everything's good with her?" Yuuri asks the doctor for confirmation.

"Her?" Dr. Odagaki repeats.

Victor laughs. "Yuuri here is convinced that it's going to be a girl."

"Not convinced," Yuuri protests, a little embarrassed. "I just -- it feels right."

"Well, I won't be able to tell you until the fetus has grown a little more. I may be able to tell you at the anatomy scan next month," Dr. Odagaki says. "That is, if you want to know."

"Of course. We want to know everything about her!" Victor says.

"See, you're saying 'her', too," Yuuri points out.

"Only because you keep saying it," Victor says, with a teasing smile.

Dr. Odagaki is wiping the goopy lube off Yuuri's slightly rounded stomach. Yuuri turns back to her and asks again, "So everything's good with her *or* him?"

She nods, but then says, "The CRL is on the smaller side."

"CRL?" Yuuri repeats, chest tightening at "the smaller side" as he sits up on the table. He adjusts his shirt down over his bare stomach with one hand as he sits up. His other hand is still firmly in Victor's, and Victor gives it a squeeze.

"Caudal to rump length," she says. "I wouldn't say it means anything yet. I am just a little surprised, as neither of you are short -- Yuuri, you're 5'7, which is average height, I believe, and Victor's taller. But, then, in my experience, Asian babies tend to be on the smaller side of normal range. So perhaps the fetus is taking after you."

Yuuri bites his lip, not entirely reassured by that. She's only going to be half-Asian, after all. And Yuuri doesn't ever remember being told that he was an especially small baby.

But Victor must sense his doubt because he wraps both his arms around Yuuri's waist.

"I hope she takes after Yuuri in everything," Victor declares.

Yuuri has to bite his tongue to keep from protesting. Because, obviously, it would be better for her in life to take after Victor as much as possible. Then he realizes why Victor said that. Because Yuuri reminds him of his dancer. He wonders, with a pang in his chest, if they looked at all alike. Had Victor's dancer been Asian, too? Had he also been an omega?

And then, because his mind likes to leap from one anxious thought to another, he suddenly realizes that he's never going to know who she takes after. He's never even going to meet her. As Nathalie had explained in one of their meetings, it's better for the baby not to see him after birth. Newborns tend to imprint very quickly on omega parents. And the contract he'd signed had explicitly stated that this was a closed surrogacy and he would have no rights to see the child later on, either.

Yuuri ignores the tightness in his chest and tries to push all his thoughts away.

"But could it have to do with the stress hormone that she's small?" Victor is asking. "Are you sure you don't want to check it again?"

"The omega specific stress hormone?" she asks. "Well, certainly very high levels have been associated with intrauterine growth. But it was still in the normal range, even though it was on the high end, so there's no need to recheck it so soon. We'll be checking it next month with your other labs, anyways."

She smiles reassuringly at him. "And, just seeing you two here today, I would bet it's going to be quite low next time."

She seems to be looking pointedly at where Victor is still hugging him around his waist. Yuuri feels his cheeks flush.

"But, anyways, you should both celebrate that the placenta is normal. It might not sound like much, but it's the last major hurdle for omega pregnancies," she says. Then frowns and qualifies, "Not that you're out of the woods. You're still at higher risk for complications, so we'll still be watching you a little more closely than other pregnancies. But it is cause for celebration. As is the fact that as of next week, you will be officially in the second trimester."

"Okay," Yuuri says reluctantly. The closer monitoring must involve continuing the frequent visits with Emil taking his vitals and weight and checking in with how he's doing. He's already been coming every two weeks for that.

"Just be careful. It's excellent for the baby that you're getting along so well, and that you're so present as the alpha, Victor. But, as you're both unbonded, don't forget the risk of forming an accidental bond. I'd hate to see you both put through a bond breaking. Take care of yourselves, too, all right?" she says. "This isn't just about the baby."

"We will," Victor answers for them. "Don't worry."

Yuuri is glad that Victor doesn't go into details, doesn't share out loud the fact that he could never bond with someone like Yuuri. Even accidentally.

"Well, Yuuri just probably needs to eat more katsudon," Victor jokes. Though Yuuri knows him well enough now to know there is still worry underneath his carefree tone.

It's probably has something to do with her Japanese surname that his doctor doesn't have to ask what katsudon is. Instead, she's saying, with a gentle smile obviously intended to reassure Yuuri, "Yuuri's right on track with his weight. It's expected to only gain a couple pounds in the first trimester. You'll be gaining more coming up, especially in the third trimester when the fetal growth really picks up. Just keep following the nutrition guidelines we gave you and you'll be fine."

Yuuri nods. The handout is still up on the fridge, next to Victor's weekly fruit calendar (passion fruit this week). Yuuri has never stuck to a diet so well ever. Of course, he's also never had a little life that depended on him before.

"Now, it's time for my next appointment," she says. "I will see you for your sixteen week visit. And, Yuuri, I'd like you to continue the nurse visits in between seeing me."

Yuuri nods, even as Victor says, "Of course."

Victor always insists on accompanying Yuuri, even though all he does is sit in the waiting room. Yuuri has protested that he doesn't need to, that he must have something better to do. But Victor has just says that, 'You're carrying our baby, Yuuri! Of course I'm going to be there.'

And Yuuri has to admit he likes having Victor there. He distracts him from worrying that something's going to be wrong. And it's nice, before Emil comes to get him to take him to the exam room, to be able to take in the comfort of Victor's alpha sea-spice scent, and ease his anxiety a little.

As Dr. Odagaki starts to walk out the door, she stops and gives Yuuri a sly look and says, "You know, if you want a little katsudon now and then it isn't going to hurt."

 

 

"This is the perfect location," Victor proclaims, not for the first time, gesturing out the tall living room windows. After their appointment with Dr. Odagaki, Victor had dragged him over to his new apartment to meet with the decorator. The decorator who has already disappeared to the bedrooms with a handful of paint and fabric samples and an assistant armed with a measuring tape.

Yuuri isn't entirely sure why he had to come, but Victor had insisted. And he'd bribed him with katsudon afterwards. And, speaking of --

"It would be even more perfect if it was next to a restaurant that served katsudon," Yuuri teases. His worry about the Victor's baby during the visit has given way -- as his anxiety tends to, when it finally leaves -- to a certain relieved giddiness.

Victor turns his head to him, and raises an eyebrow. "And how do you know it's not?"

"You really think I don't know every place that serves katsudon in this city?"

Victor breaks into one of his beautiful bright smiles and says, "Of course, how ever could I have doubted you?"

"I don't know," Yuuri says, trying for serious but he can't help but smile back at him. 

Victor laughs and tugs Yuuri in front of him. He splays his hands over the firm bump of Yuuri's stomach and buries his nose in his neck. He gives a contented hum and then draws back without even properly scenting him, as if he'd just wanted to get a strong scent of Yuuri's pregnancy hormones.

"It's near the subway stop," Victor says. "Surely there's katsudon somewhere along the Blue line."

Yuuri has already thought about it -- ever since Victor suggested they get katsudon after they're done here -- and decided he would take Victor to a small restaurant attached to a Japanese grocery store.

He doesn't give Victor the satisfaction of admitting that it is on the Blue line and only one stop away, so he just says, "For your baby's sake, I hope so."

Victor just shakes his head and smiles at him, affection in his eyes. Yuuri can't help but slide one of his own hands down over Victor's over his stomach.

"It's still a perfect location," Victor continues, turning to look out the window. "It's not far from the rink. And the International School is only four blocks away. And look at this view, solnishko, surely even you can appreciate that."

"International school?" Yuuri repeats.

Victor hums an affirmative. "Yakov insisted I get them on the waiting list for the preschool."

"What? But the baby's not even born yet," Yuuri says with half a laugh.

"When I put them on the list, they said I was just in time," Victor says. He traces a finger over the firm bump of Yuuri's belly, in some unknown pattern.

"That's ridiculous," Yuuri says.

"Agreed," Victor says. "In Russia, I would just need to pay enough money and they'd be in front of the line."

"Right," Yuuri says dryly. "That's exactly what I meant."

But Victor seems oblivious to his sarcasm. "And being in the preschool means it will be easy for them to get into grade school."

"Why the international school, though?" Yuuri asks. He'd come over from Japan barely able to say hello in English -- he'd had English classes in Japan, but he'd never been the best student -- and he'd gone to a regular school. It had been terrifying, but it was so embarrassing to draw attention to himself when it was obvious he couldn't understand the teachers, that he'd learned quickly.

But Victor's baby is going to grow up speaking English. Though perhaps Victor will speak to her in Russian so she learns that, too. Maybe that's why he wants her there. "Do they teach Russian, is that why?"

"Russian and Japanese," Victor says.

"Japanese?" Yuuri repeats. He steps away from Victor so he can look at him. "Why?"

"Well, he or she is going to be half Japanese, you know," Victor says.

"I know that, but--" Yuuri isn't sure why that even matters, though. What that even means. She isn't going to be raised by a Japanese family or anything. "But who would she talk to?"

"Japanese people, presumably," Victor says with a shrug. There's something strangely stiff in the motion, though. And Victor adds, "You."

"Me?" Yuuri repeats. Victor nods. His eyes are on Yuuri's, an unusually cautious look to them. Yuuri bites his lip, then says, "But I -- the contract."

Victor tilts his head, still watching him.

"It says I'm not going to have any contact with the baby after the birth," Yuuri reminds him.

"But you could," Victor says. "If you wanted."

"Do you want that?" Yuuri asks, gaping at him.

"Of course," Victor says. There's a cautious look in his eyes, though, and his light tone seems forced. What he's offering is generous, far more than Yuuri had ever expected to have. He must be afraid that Yuuri may try to take it too far.

"That would be nice," Yuuri says, trying not to sound as thrilled by the prospect as he is inside. "I'd like to meet her someday. Or him. But only if you're sure."

Victor's expression relaxes and Yuuri knows he said the right thing. Victor takes a step closer and shakes his head as he says, "Yuuri, can you really think there's any way I wouldn't want --"

But he's interrupted by the decorator's sharp voice. "Mr Nikiforov, I told you we required your opinion back here. We don't have all day."

"Right," Victor says. He glances at Yuuri before he follows her out.

Yuuri bites down on his lip to keep himself from calling after him and demanding to know how Victor was going to finish that sentence.


End file.
